


Darkness of the Heart

by Misgel



Series: Darkness [2]
Category: Transformers (Bay Movies), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Everybody hates Galloway, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Heavy Angst, Megatron is still a manipulative bastard, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Torture, Silas is just a bastard, Torture, Unethical Experimentation, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-07
Updated: 2019-05-16
Packaged: 2019-06-06 18:17:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 102,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15200639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Misgel/pseuds/Misgel
Summary: Months have past since the battle against MECH and the children were taken away from their Autobot guardians. Jack is torn between his loyalty to his friends and his newfound bond with Megatron, Lord of the Decepticons.Alliances wear thin and the Great Civil War escalates as tension rises. The Autobots are strained. The Decepticons are gaining power. The American government is terrified. MECH is plotting revenge.Jack must face the paramilitary organization head-on to save his friends and prevent the world from falling into chaos. But will he be fighting for the Autobots, or the Decepticons?





	1. Alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, the next installment of Darkness! For those that are new, I highly recommend reading Darkness of the Soul, first. But I never read anything in order so go ahead if you must. I plan to update weekly updates, however, I have a hectic schedule right now so there may a chance I fail to do so.
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy what I have in store!

It was cold. Frost formed a thick layer on the window, making it almost impossible to look out to the world beyond. Not that there was much to see. A white, rolling landscape stretched as far as the eye could see. It was interrupted by sheer cliffs and jagged walls, making it all the more difficult to navigate in. And so all the more difficult to be located. The peaks of the mountains cut into the heavy cloud cover that spread across the sky. Snow drifted down in agonizing slowness, adding to the ever-growing blanket across the hard, frigid ground.

It was certainly colder than the last location. The man had been through worse.

Even though there was no impressive view, he stared out the window, lost in thought. Feet shoulder-length apart, arms behind his back, hands clenched in tight fists.

 _Months_ of dedicating his work into a single operation, only to be blown away in a single night. All those resources, all that security, all those _men_ —gone. It filled him with enough fury that his heated blood combated with the frigid air around him.

He underestimated his enemy. He underestimated NEST. He underestimated Lieutenant Colonel William Lennox.

Obviously, for someone so young and inexperienced, he knew how to effectively lead the men under his command—and how to properly deploy the arsenal given to him. The robots were an unexpected variable. He wasn’t aware the US military was in possession of so many. He wasn’t aware of their capability.

They had leveled an entire compound—full of trained, skilled soldiers, and an arsenal of the most advanced technology in the world—in a single night. Now he was forced to move the remains of his forces to the other side of the planet. They could avoid detection in this area, for a time. Long enough to complete the project, at least.

MECH would live on. And Silas would see its mission succeed.

A world where the people were not pawns of a government that did not care, but ruled by machines. Flesh would not wasted on the battlefield. A world, where _they_ fought instead.

Suddenly there was a respectful knock at the door.

“Enter,” the commander barked, without turning.

There was a squeak of hinges as the door swung open, followed by footsteps. Light, tentative.

“Silas, sir,” the newcomer saluted.

The ex-Navy SEAL soldier already knew who it was, but he confirmed it by looking over his shoulder. The guest wore khaki trousers over polished shoes, and a buttoned up, pale blue dress shirt. He almost looked like he was ready to walk into a meeting, if the white, pristine lab coat did not ruin the illusion.

The man may have been lean and broad-shouldered, but Silas was well aware he was no fighter. Instead, his calloused hands were steady as a rock and deft fingers moved with unmatched precision. The salt-and-pepper, short-cropped hair and crow’s feet spreading from his eyes told he had been in his profession for a long time, and had decades of experience to sharpen those skills.

Michael DiBiase, Silas believed. A surgeon before a freedom fighter. The MECH leader made sure to know the names and ranks and professions of each and every one of his men. They had vowed to fight and die for his cause, after all. Even though he was well aware some had less noble intentions than others. Fortunately, DiBiase was not one of these men. The doctor knew only to bother him if it was important. _Very_ important.

“What is it?” Silas asked, calmly but still full of authority.

“I have the results from the lab work, sir,” DiBiase reported.

It took a few moments for the militiaman to realize to what he was referring. Oh, that. He had almost forgotten about it. He had been quite busy.

“And?” Silas inquired, finally turning to face his guest. He was greeted with an outstretched manila folder.

“We found something quite intriguing.”

Silas quirked a curious eyebrow, but unfolded his arms and tentatively took the folder. He opened it up, flipping through the ink-covered white papers inside. As leader of MECH, an organization built by state-of-the-art technology from the world’s greatest minds, Silas wanted to call himself a man of science. But biology was not one of his strong suits.

Still, he humored the surgeon as he looked at a picture on the first page. It was just a bunch of red circles—red blood cells. At least he thought. Some of the circles looked funny, and the picture was speckled with dots.

“What am I supposed to be looking at?” Silas asked.

“Red blood cells,” DiBiase answered. “ _Infected_ red blood cells.”

“Infected with what?”

There was a pause and the doctor shifted his weight. His next words were slow, careful. “I… do not know, sir.”

Silas’s eyebrows knotted ever so slightly. That was not what he wanted to hear. Likely why DiBiase looked so nervous. Regardless of position, everyone knew the consequences of failing their leader. However, instead of showing his temper, the MECH leader kept a calm and patient tone.

“Some new disease?” he guessed. Silas thought about it. “Alien?”

“We’re still researching that. But from our understanding, the infection doesn’t seem organic. We were able to isolate some of the material from the erythrocytes. The molecules appear to be in some sort of lattice structure—similar to crystalline materials.” At his leader’s hard stare, DiBiase repeated himself in simpler terms, “It… looks like a crystal, impeded in the blood. Probably why it hasn’t been terminated by the defense system’s leukocytes—er, white blood cells.”

The commander stared down at the picture, analyzing what he had been told. The old war veteran found himself looking back on his high school lectures. An inorganic substance that invaded cells. That sounded like a virus. An alien virus, then? But he never heard of a virus being a crystal.

“Is that all?” Silas pressed, trying not to make his disappointment known. He had gathered the greatest talents in the world, and this was all there was to show for it?

“Well—” DiBiase shifted his weight again. “There is another anomaly about the infection.” The MECH leader glanced up at him without moving his head. “The crystals… they share the same lattice structure we studied at the former site.”

It took a full minute for Silas to digest what the man just said. He thought old age—and years of war—had finally ruined his hearing. Then—

“You’re saying—”

“Yes, sir.”

No, impossible. He stared back down at the picture in his hands. Crystals, impeded in _human_ blood. Crystals, that weren’t from this planet.

“That much energon exposure would _kill_ him,” Silas realized. Not even his scientists could be exposed to it more than a few minutes, without facing the consequences of it.

“It would,” DiBiase agreed. “But… it doesn’t seem to be degrading the host’s blood cells.”

Finally Silas narrowed his eyes into a confused squint. “How is that possible?”

“I… do not know.”

Very few men had said that to the terrorist’s face and lived. Fewer had said it more than once in the same conversation. However, seeing DiBiase’s perplexed expression—and something else in his eyes—he realized killing an incompetent fool would not solve this mystery. Especially at the doctor’s next words.

“I would need another sample to investigate it further,” the surgeon explained, quickly offering a solution. Then suddenly an odd, twisted look crossed his face. He opened his mouth, as if to continue, but no sound came out. He closed it when that look disappeared.

Silas cared less about the strange event. The gears in his head were already turning, already plotting out the next course of action in the war. He doubted he was being played, men valued their lives too much and DiBiase was not the type to fool another. His profession as a surgeon prevented him from lying.

He needed a sample.

He needed that _brat_.

Silas glanced down, looking at the name in bold font in capital letters, jumping from the pale paper.

**DARBY, JACKSON.**

A wide, satisfied grin spread across the man’s face. Perhaps the boy could actually contribute to MECH’s mission. Perhaps, he could be the link between man and machine that Silas had been looking for, for _years_.

Maybe, the key to the completion of Project Chimera. 

* * *

Jack woke up alone. He always woke up alone.

His phone did not ring impatiently, with that cool, but comforting voice that would fill the line. There was no energetic revving of an engine or urgent blaring of a horn. The teenager always woke up to silence.

No deep, gravelly voice would greet him. No cold, but impossibly gentle touch. No possessive, protective warmth.

The boy always a pang of something in his heart, and he did not know why.

Jack reluctantly opened his eyes to see bright, late morning light filtering into his room. Like always, he had the urge to drift back to sleep, but he knew it was futile. Those restless thoughts immediately stirred to life, the same ones that he battled every night.

The teenager turned over in his bed, hugging the blankets over him. He was greeted with his alarm clock, complete with the exact time and the day’s date. His stomach twisted. It was the one day of the year that always filled him with eager excitement and heavy dread. When—

Jack immediately shoved down the thought. No, he needed to move on. Trying to distract himself from the morbid thoughts, he lifted himself up into a sitting position. With a yawn, he spread his arms out in a languid stretch, feeling stiff muscles pull taut and the bones of his shoulders popping into place. The teenager reached out for his laptop, opening it up and resting it on his thighs.

Sure enough, his social media was filled with messages. Jack took the time to reply to every one of them, especially to the names he recognized the most.

 ** _Are you still up for today?_** Miko asked.

 ** _I’ll see you later!_** Raf cheered.

Still, Jack felt that sting again, when he failed to see any of the short, crisp messages that used to greet him. When he failed to hear that reassuring voice.

The teenager quickly shut the laptop and moved out of bed. It didn’t take him long to get ready, washing away the sweat that had accumulated over the night. Sure enough, he stepped up to the foggy mirror, only to see a dull reflection of himself.

Jack knew he'd lost weight. His once lean torso had turned skinny but thankfully it was not horribly noticeable. His skin was turning pale, despite the desert sun that burned constantly outside. Dark bags were under his eyes, that he didn’t know how to hide them.

The teenager spent most of his nights chasing sleep. He couldn’t relax in the dark anymore, because every time the light was taken away, he would find himself in that horrible place. Where endless tunnels went on and on and on, with no hope of the light. Claustrophobia would seize him in a vice grip.

When he did manage to settle in bed, it would take hours for exhaustion to set in. He would find himself trapped in a cycle of depression, thinking of the same dark thoughts over and over and over. His sleep offered no escape.

Jack didn’t have pleasant dreams anymore. They were always nightmares. Where a deep, powerful darkness would consume him, suffocate him. Where he saw the burning, ruined, charred remains of a once great and proud city. There was a sadistic laugh, that sounded louder whenever he screamed. Sounded louder whenever _she_ was dragged away from him.

Sometimes Jack would wake up in a cold sweat, or gasping for air. Sometimes he would wake up to his mother’s face, summoned by his terrified screams.

Only _he_ could make the awful nightmares go away.

That dark, powerful presence that would fill his mind, shoving away his thoughts and emotions and dreams. Until there was nothing left but an empty, blissful void.

Jack’s hand curled into a fist. Part of him hated it, hated _him._ Part of him yearned for the familiar figure to return. Even now, the boy felt the pull in his heart, his soul, towards the one he wanted to run away from, but could not escape. The one he could _never_ escape. A bond of blood, that could never be broken. All thanks to the substance that was supposed to destroy him, and almost did, but instead sunk into its new host.

As the boy slipped into a pair of jeans and pulled on a sweater, he wondered how his life came to this. A matter of years ago, his biggest concern was his grades in school. Then it only took a single moment, on a single day, delivered by cold words, that tore apart his simple life. He was so lost in his self-pity, he didn’t even notice the bike—didn’t notice _her_ —until she crashed into him. Then the next thing he knew, Jack came face-to-face with _him_. He found himself at the monster’s mercy.

And this is what it had come to. Jack was alone. His friends were gone. The Autobots were gone.

His newfound family was taken away from him, because they had sacrificed everything to save him, not from _his_ clutches, but ones that made a mockery of everything he believed in.

MECH. A terrorist organization hell-bent on destroying government and its society, just so they could built it up in their own image of a “New World Order.” They wanted to use _them—_ his friends—to do it, not even caring of the destruction it would cause. Of how many innocents lives would be taken.

It only made Jack feel so much worse, the moment he realized that the Autobots’ efforts were all for nothing.

Silas escaped. MECH was still out there. No doubt plotting another scheme.

Jack swallowed. It was all his fault. Silas had captured _him,_ just because he knew the boy had access to Cybertronian technology.

It felt like that night, the night when United States forces had stormed the paramilitary base, had happened only a moment ago. Jack still saw the details clear as day, as _she_ came for him— _rescued_ him. However, looking at the date, he confirmed what he already knew.

Had it already been three months?

It was weird how quickly things continued on after the Autobots left to negotiate with the US government, in order to prevent an intergalactic incident. School went on as usual, work was the same, and Jack blended into the background of people. It was almost like how it was before, when the boy had just moved to the small desert town, before he met the Autobots. The only difference this time, was that he still had Miko and Raf.

They tried their best to stay positive. Miko still listened her Bulgarian shriek metal and Raf still meddled with his laptop. The teenager still hung out, to talk and laugh. Sometimes they slipped, bringing up the topic, and sure enough, it immediately filled the air with a heavy, uncomfortable silence. Jack noticed they still eyed the pick-up loop whenever they stepped out of school, looking for their rides, their guardians, their friends. Jack always did, too.

But now even the teens’ time together was limited. School had ended for summer vacation, and without any entertainment, without the Autobots, without any life or death scenarios, another month had passed slowly.

Jack looked back at the glaring date on his clock.

Three months since he last saw and spoke to his best friend, his partner, Arcee. A month left of summer. And it was the day his father died.

Staff Sergeant Jonathan Darby. The Army Ranger was supposed to come home. He even made it back to base, and packed to make the long journey from the other side of the world. But then _they_ came.

The helicopter was escorted onto the landing deck, the humans none the wiser to what it really was. What its true mission was.

Now Jack was bonded to the one responsible—albeit indirectly—of his father’s death.

The army brat felt the cycle of morbid thoughts quickly crawl to the surface of his mind. He almost fell back into it, almost forgot why this day was _supposed_ to be special. Then he saw it.

It was on his nightstand, just beside his digital clock. Either Jack was so tired from his rough sleep or he was so focused on the numbers, he had failed to see it. It was a little black box, just small enough to rest in his palm. It was cool and smooth in his hand, and the boy quickly realized the obsidian metal was not of earthly origin.

Cocking an eyebrow, he turned the perfectly symmetrical cube between his fingers. Allowing the pad of his thumb to brush against a switch. Immediately there was a distinct clicking sound, and Jack widened his eyes as the little black box changed shape. The top half folded away, and a pale, violet light shone forth.

The teenager’s mouth gaped at the object nestled in the flexible mesh. It was a solid, smooth crystal, ending in two sharp points on either end, in a diamond-like shape. It was attached to a thin, flexible chain, composed of the same metal that made up the cube. It was a necklace, Jack realized, but it wasn’t feminine or masculine. It was a simple, modest design, allowing the particular crystal to display its significance.

It was already tingling against the teenager’s palm, and he felt his heart beat a little faster. Underneath the hard, cold surface, a violet hue pulsed from the center of the crystal. Emitting a dark, wicked, _evil_ power, yet Jack found his tight muscles uncoiling one-by-one. It was the very thing that flowed through his body, after all.

Dark energon.

The military brat realized what the odd trinket was supposed to be, and just as quickly realized how it got there. _He_ must have left it behind, from last night’s visit. Jack honestly didn’t expect _him_ to remember, or even care.

The teenager glanced at the date.

**July 3 rd**

His birthday.

Jack smiled.

“Thanks, Megatron.”

After ten full minutes of considering, Jack threw the chain over his head and tucked the shard of dark energon underneath his shirt. Thankfully the cotton was thick enough to hide its pale glow and though it tingled against his skin, it was not distracting.

The army brat wasn’t fooled by Megatron’s gesture. The Decepticon leader was far from the type to present a gift just to spoil someone else. It was just another way to claim him, a physical incarnation of the warlord’s possessiveness over his human pet. The fact it was _dark energon_ was no coincidence, either. It was a reminder, of the essence that linked them together.

The Blood of the Chaos Bringer, Megatron had absorbed it and it had practically brought him back from the dead. Jack still didn’t know what had compelled the tyrant to share it with the teenaged boy. His body had initially rejected it. Tried to expel the poison that it was, but the dark energon had sunk into his blood, his heart, his soul.

Now Jack and Megatron shared a bond of blood, and he still didn’t understand how it worked. He could only _feel_ a pull in the back of his mind, reaching out to another’s. When he reached out, pressing against it tentatively, he felt a stir of emotions that weren’t his. Sometimes they invaded his mind, overlapping with his own.

Jack mostly felt Megatron’s anger or his annoyance, which he suspected was mostly directed at the Decepticon leader’s incompetent subordinates. It put him in a bad mood more than once. Other times, the army brat would be lost in his own thoughts, only to feel a stab of pain burrow into his skin. He would either seethe or yell out, gripping at a wound that was not there. Every time it attracted odd stares, the boy wanted to sink into a hole.

That was nothing, compared to when Megatron decided to take a nap. Being practically an immortal being and a workaholic warlord, the Decepticon did not have the same sleep schedule as the teenager. Jack would go for days, sometimes weeks, without an incident. One moment he would be alert and wide awake, only for a powerful wave of exhaustion to wash over him. It was the only warning he got, before he sunk into unconsciousness.

Most of the time, he was in the safety of his own home, so there was no real harm. However, Megatron wasn’t against sleeping in the middle of the day. Even if it was an inconvenient time for the human.

Once Jack was in the middle of a final exam when the room spun, and before he could fight it, he slumped out of his chair and onto the floor. He woke up in the nurse’s office, the woman incredibly confused why he passed out for no apparent reason. The only conclusion she could come up with was that he was stressed and sleep-deprived. It still didn’t save him from being the class joke for the remaining week. The other time was at work, when Jack had fallen unconscious in the meat freezer. If his co-worker, Kyle, hadn’t found him and dragged him out, he would’ve been sent to the hospital for hypothermia.

It annoyed the teenager more than anything, and didn’t hesitate to vent his grievances. Megatron only found it funny.

The teen could only hope there wouldn't be another incident as he stepped into the garage. Instantly his heart clenched at the sight before him. It was cold, dark. Empty. No familiar, curved figure met him. No purr of an engine greeted him.

Instead, there was only a collection of shelves pushed up against the wall, covered in forgotten tools and junk. Alongside the bicycle he had since middle school. No gorgeous paint, no sleek armor. Just bars of metal welded together and covered with rust, it was a sorry excuse of a two-wheeler. Raf had offered him a ride, but the other boy lived on the other side of town, and Jack felt guilty to make him go out of his way. He probably needed the exercise, anyway.

Even with that thought, the army brat was slow and reluctant as he walked it to the street. It took him far too long to make it to the center of town, as compared to the matter of minutes it took with _her_. His legs were pulsing with soreness by the time he pulled into the parking lot. He was _really_ out of shape.

Jack didn’t want to do anything special for his birthday. All he wanted was a quiet afternoon with his friends, to be _normal,_ and not to worry about time, or nightmares, or deadly aliens.

Raf suggested pizza, and that was just fine with Jack. His friends had already gotten there first, even sitting at a table with an extra large (yes, extra large) cheese pizza between them. At least, that was the last image he saw before crushing arms wrapped around his torso.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!”

“M-Miko, can’t b-breathe,” Jack wheezed.

The Japanese girl seemed oblivious as she released him, only to half-usher, half-drag him over, skipping all the way. She wasted no time, either. The teen hadn’t even fully settled in the booth when a box covered in brightly-colored wrapping was tossed in front of him.

“Open it! Open it!” Miko demanded, practically bouncing on her seat like a restless toddler.

Jack only grinned with a huff, but did as he was told, only he didn’t believe his eyes. It was the unreleased album of his favorite band.

“H-how did you possibly get this?” the teen gasped, flipping it over in his hands, like he was trying to find the tiniest flaw to prove it wasn’t real. It wasn’t supposed to come out for _weeks._

Miko shrugged. “I know people.”

The military brat decided it was better not to know and moved on to Raf’s present. It was that new video game he had been eying a year before its release, though he said he preferred to save the cash. Both gifts in his hand, Jack could only stare at them.

“So, what do you think?” Miko pressed at his lack of reaction. “You like them?”

“Y-Yeah, of course,” the boy insisted, quickly blinking out of his trance. “It’s just that… it’s really thoughtful.”

The crystal on his chest tingled.

“Well, _duh_ , that’s what friends are for.”

“Yeah,” Raf agreed. “We wanted to do something special, since, you know… it’s summer.”

Instantly Jack’s lightened spirit became heavy. It was true. They were already halfway through the summer. The Autobots were gone, and the teenager wondered how many days they had left with each other.

Miko’s exchange program had ended that spring. The student had ranted, screamed, compromised, and pleaded, but her parents in Japan did not budge. They had become aware of their daughter’s rambunctious behavior, especially her dropping grades and the number of detentions—and suspensions—she had received. They deemed that the American culture was having a bad influence on her, and refused to renew her application. Miko had convinced her parents to let her stay for the summer, but now it was a waiting game until they grew impatient.

Raf came forward with his own news. His mother found a job in Ohio, and rather than flying back and forth, she deemed to take her five children along with her. Including Raf. He, too, only had until the end of the summer, until his family made the long journey.

Away from Jasper, Nevada.

Leaving Jack alone.

The military brat forced a smile. “Yeah. Thank you, guys.”

The first few minutes of the following conversation was tense, the heavy reminder on all of them. However, as time went by, moving from one random subject to the next, Jack became distracted again. Until—

“So, when do you think we’ll see them again?” Miko asked, like it was a curious question.

“What do you mean?” Jack blinked.

“The ‘Bots. We haven’t seen or heard _anything_ from them in weeks. I mean, not so much as a _phone call._ It’s _not_ normal. _”_

The teenaged boys frowned, and it was Jack that decided to explain patiently, “Miko, you know the deal. The ‘Bots can’t talk to us anymore.”

“And why not? Because some stuck-up, know-it-all in a suit _told us so_?” The Japanese student crossed her arms defiantly, a gesture Jack knew all too well when the stubborn girl made up her mind. “They’re _our_ friends!”

The army brat bit the inside of his cheek, trying to fight his own frustration. A year. A year they had spent with the Autobots, taking rides from school, hanging out at the base, and going on missions across the globe. They had originally taken the children in to defend them against the Decepticons, but soon they had gained a certain fondness for their charges.

The Autobots were more than just their guardians. They were their partners. Family.

And once again, Jack’s family was taken away from him. When the Autobots first arrived to Earth, the U.S. government was terrified by the highly technologically advanced race that could easily destroy their country with a flip of a switch. The military had signed a peace treaty, even forming a coalition task force consisting of both humans and Cybertronians—NEST.

However, one of the agreements of the treaty was that the Autobots were forbidden from having contact with civilians. One reason was to prevent mass panic, and Jack was quite sure the government did not want their enemies to know about their newfound assets. And it was according to the treaty, Jack and his friends were civilians.

“I know, Miko, but, it’s… it’s way over our heads,” he tried.

“But we have to do _something_!”

Jack gritted his teeth, feeling that suppressed anger bubble up his chest, but he knew it was unfair to unleash it on Miko. Still, he couldn’t help raising his voice a little as he demanded, “What _can_ we do? We’re in _high_ _school_.”

“So?”

“ _So_ there’s nothing we can do.”

Miko shook her head so hard that the boy thought it would fall off. “That’s not true! We were with the ‘Bots for a _year._ They can't just forget about us!”

The teenager swallowed, and the growing fury was quickly replaced with a much more painful emotion. Just a single phone call—or _something_ —to hear his guardian’s voice would have been more than enough. However, the wish was cruelly ripped away as Raf spoke up, his voice small and tentative.

“I tried calling Bumblebee once, but… he didn’t answer,” the young boy confessed lowly.

“Bulkhead’s dodging me, too,” Miko replied, almost resentfully, like her friend was merely pettily ignoring her and not cut off from ever speaking to her again.

Jack didn’t want to admit he had been so desperate once to try to contact Arcee, but only got the same result. But he couldn’t.

“We can’t talk to them anymore,” the teen forced out, each word painful. Instantly his friends frowned with downcast gazes, eyes turning shiny in the incandescent light.

“I know,” Raf murmured in a low whine, “it’s just that…”

He trailed off, and Miko was the one that spoke the words all three of them were too afraid to say.

“I miss Bulkhead…” she whimpered.

Jack’s heart twisted and it hurt to swallow the lump in his voice. Oh, how he missed Arcee. He missed going on rides, how effortlessly she would move, the speeds she could reach. He missed bickering with her, _talking_ with her. He missed his best friend.

Jack talked with _him_ , sure—sometimes hours at a time, even. But it wasn’t the same. No one could replace his girl.

The teenager’s stomach knotted and glanced at the remaining slices of pizza. His stomach churned at the grease covering the sticky cheese, and he lost the will to force himself to eat.

Jack had learned to eat without an appetite. Not only had the dark energon sunk into his body, but it was a heavy weight in his stomach. It was a long, unpleasant process. Jack could only eat a little at a time, but he tried to force himself to eat more and more. Sometimes he ate too much, or the food just didn’t mix well with the poisonous substance, and the boy would lose the progress he had made.

Only the dark energon settled in his stomach. Jack hated it. He hated that it was the only thing that fill the void in his gut, his soul. He hated how he would _crave_ it, even though he didn’t want it. The worst part of all, he knew that was exactly what Megatron wanted.

The shard felt warm on his chest.

Jack collected his gifts and pushed himself off of the booth. He thanked his friends, sincerely, but couldn’t force any more conversation. He walked out of the restaurant, and out towards his lonely bike. The teen looked down at his feet, and he almost didn’t see it.

It was a flash in the corner of his eye, but it made him freeze all the same. No, it couldn’t be. The army brat told himself it was just another trick of the eye, that he had been mistaken dozens of times. Even with that in mind, Jack glanced up anyway. His breath caught in his throat.

No, it couldn’t be.

Sleek, shiny curves of deep blue, gleaming under the hot desert sun. Streaks of light pink slashed through the cool color, but not distracting. A pair of fully-pumped, jet-black wheels, one pointed in his direction.

Jack blinked. Then again. And again. Waiting for the hallucination to disappear.

But it didn’t.

The teenager dared to turn and took a step, and another. Slowly, cautiously, like if he moved too quickly, the mirage would vanish. But it stayed solid, even as he paused a foot away from it.

No, it wasn’t—

“Arcee…”

“Hey, partner.”

  



	2. Reunion

Jack decided he was definitely throwing out his bike. Instead of fidgeting on a rubbery seat, the teenager sunk into the motorcycle’s saddle. His hands naturally curled around the handles. He leaned into each turn, his heart quickening with each burst of speed. The boy had spent his summer dodging cars, now Arcee effortlessly weaved between them.

The motorcycle was going so fast she almost missed the highway’s exit. She cut in front of a semi-truck, summoning an angry blare of a horn, jumping off the road and onto the ramp. The road led to open desert, so there was less traffic. Leaving the interstate behind, Arcee turned off the grey asphalt and onto the bone-dry sand. She waited a few moments until the road disappeared from view. Then the Autobot floored it.

Jack let out a whoop as the two-wheeler leaned back on one wheel before falling back down, dust trailing behind her. The even, cracked earth of the salt flats offered no resistance as the motorcycle went faster and faster. The army brat felt the wind rip at his clothes, every purr of the engine, every slight turn of the wheel. His knuckles were bone-white, but it was not from fear. His entire body was tingling and his heart hammered in his chest as adrenaline coursed through his veins.

Arcee had to be going _at least_ 120 miles per hour. She took advantage of the open space, doing wheelies, circles in the sand, and dizzying spins. Jack only laughed with each one. He completely lost track of time, but it had to be close to an hour, when the motorcycle finally slowed to a comfortable speed, now cruising along salt flats that surrounded the town. The army brat waited for the high from the rush to fade before he dared to speak, but his heart was still beating rapidly.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, though he was definitely not against the idea.

When he saw her in town, and realized she was real, he had not hesitated to jump onto her saddle at her invitation. Now the excitement had calmed, he demanded to know why, how, his friend was here.

“Well, it’s your birthday, isn’t it?” Arcee replied in that cool tone of hers. “I thought you wouldn’t mind a visit.”

“No, I don’t,” Jack quickly defended with a shake of his head. “It’s just that… I thought we weren’t supposed to talk to each other anymore.”

The Autobot was quiet for a few moments before she finally replied, “The base has been quiet lately. I could afford to go on a drive.”

Jack instantly caught on to the mischievous undertone and he smiled, almost bursting out into a laugh. He never pegged _Arcee_ to be the type to sneak out of the house. Then he latched onto the former sentence. The _base_.

Diego Garcia, a NEST training facility that housed the Autobots. A small island in the middle of the Indian Ocean, it was the perfect place to hide the extra-terrestrials. After they were forced to abandon Autobot Outpost Omega One when the Decepticons discovered its location (which Jack still considered his fault, despite what anyone said). The last time the army brat was at the military base, he had watched the alliance between Autobots and humans all but evaporate.

“You’re still at the base?” he echoed. “Does that mean…?”

Jack didn’t know how to phase the question, but he didn’t have to, as Arcee understood his meaning.

“Your leaders allowed us to stay on Earth for asylum, as long we continue to _only_ focus on Decepticon activities,” the Autobot explained. “And redraft the treaty, of course.”

Arcee explained it was necessarily the same as the first: that the Autobots were only to communicate with select military personnel and that they were not to trade weaponry. However, the revised treaty enforced that the guests obeyed the inhabitants’ laws above all else.

When operating in another state, NEST forces were required to accompany the extraterrestrials. However, as readying an entire task force is not a simple thing, more than once the Decepticons escaped before the Autobots even arrived. It made it all the more concerning, when their mortal enemies had become increasingly more active.

“The ‘Cons are making a move?” Jack asked, remembering the last time there was a surge of Decepticon attacks. When they were searching for their captured leader, and when they tried to summon an undead army to Earth.

“More like Megatron is gloating,” Arcee replied bitterly.  

The army brat swallowed. The Decepticon had not mentioned any of this in their conversations, but the warlord had always steered it in the human’s direction. Now Jack knew why. His grip momentarily tightened on the handles.

He didn’t know how to tell her, who had been keeping him company during the long weeks they had been separated. Who held him in the night as he screamed out in terror. Who filled his veins with the Blood of Unicron. He didn’t know if he _could_ tell her. How would she even react?

“I mean, they got to realize how much of an advantage they’re giving the ‘Cons?” Jack said instead.

“Yeah, well, try explaining that to Galloway,” Arcee grumbled.

Jack’s gut twisted at the name. Theodore Galloway. He was the national security advisor to the president, and had no issue taking advantage of his authority. He was the one that took the ‘Bots away.

The boy’s blood boiled at the thought of the man, that had so easily dismissed the special connection between the teenagers and their guardians. That he had only considered the Autobots as military assets— _tools._ Just like Silas had.

Then the army brat digested Arcee’s words.

“Wait, Galloway is the government’s _liaison_?” he gasped.

Not only was the man expected to represent the interest of the US government, but the interests of the Autobots. When it was clear to Jack the security advisory did not respect the sentient beings’ interests. The thought just made the boy’s veins even hotter.

“How could they just replace Fowler?” he demanded. “After everything he’s been through with the ‘Bots?”

Agent William Fowler, was the Autobots’ military contact. He made his patriotism to his country known, but he had proven on more than one occasion that he was almost just as loyal to the Autobots. He proved that, when he risked—and most likely—lost his career, when he hacked into government files for the Autobots. All so they could find Jack.

The boy gritted his teeth. “How can you just put up with that?”

There was a rumble of an engine that almost sounded like a sigh, as if summoning patience. “There was a time Fowler didn’t always like us. In fact, he was no different from Galloway.”

“But what about all the times he helped you guys?”

“He didn’t start warming up to us, until, well, you came along. Maybe that was when he realized we weren’t a threat to mankind.”

Jack blinked at that. He couldn’t see how Fowler could be anything like the man. Sure, the government agent had shown his annoyance towards the extra-terrestrials more than once, especially when their war lead to a mess that _he_ had to cover-up. Most of the time the man would visit the base only when there was a problem.

Then Jack remembered. When he and the other teenagers had first arrived to the Autobot base, Fowler had come for another “visit.” The Autobots instantly attempted to hide the children, but Jack wasn’t deaf to the open hostility that filled the man’s tone. Which turned into fury when he discovered the newcomers, even threatening to take them into protective custody.

Before he could keep his promise, Fowler was taken prisoner by the Decepticons. It was only when the Autobots (along with their human counterparts, that were dragged along thanks to Miko) made a daring rescue, risking their own lives in the process, that he seemed grateful. He seemed more willing to defend the Autobots, than to blame them. And the fact that extraterrestrials _did_ save him went against the spy’s suspicions.

“That’s why he hated you? Because you were a security risk?”

“No.” Jack squinted at that, but Arcee didn’t immediately explain as she rounded a rock formation. After a long pause, the guardian explained carefully, “The Decepticons killed his brother. …The same night they attacked the Special Operations base.”

The operations base. The same his father was stationed in. The same one Staff Sergeant Jonathan Darby was killed in.

“In Fowler’s eyes, Decepticons and Autobots were one and the same,” Arcee went on. “We were just as responsible for his brother’s death, and so we were just as dangerous to humanity.”

Jack was an only child. He never had any brothers or sisters. He had always been alone. The only ones that came even close were Raf and Miko. They were his family. Just to bear the thought of losing one of them… No wonder Fowler held so much resentment.

“Now he paid for his freedom, for my mistake,” the teenager grumbled, looking down. His hold on the handle tightened.

“No, Jack,” his partner refused curtly. “Fowler knew what he was getting into. He knew the risks. And he was willing to take them.”

That didn’t make Jack feel better. The man was most likely in prison, facing the charge of treason, and the Autobots were trapped with Galloway, who didn’t even understand their war.

The pair had left the salt flats behind, instead taking a narrow path leading up in the mountains that towered over Jasper. The motorcycle went across the rough terrain effortlessly, pulling onto the crest of a hill within minutes when most required an ATV.

The hill wasn’t as tall as some of the surrounding mountains, but it gave an impressive view of the Mojave Desert. The flat, cracked earth stretched on for miles in every direction, meeting the clear-blue sky on a hazy, distorted horizon. The little town of Jasper lay in the center of it, a cluster of buildings and even a few splashes of green in the desolate land. The highway had finally finished construction, the black asphalt cutting through the pale soil towards the metropolis of Las Vegas.

Arcee rolled to a stop, and Jack took his cue to step off, pulling off his helmet. There was suddenly the sound of turning gears, pulling wires, and shifting metal. The motorcycle he ridden for the past hour stood up in a form that towered two feet over him.

Deep blue plating ended in sharp-edged armor, but smooth curves gave her a feminine appearance. Sharp little winglets rose from her back, twitching in the dry, hot air. A gentle, warm, reassuring face looked down at him, with cool, calm optics.

Jack swallowed at the sight of Arcee’s true form. The last time he’d seen his partner, he thought it would be the last. The words left his mouth before he could stop them.

“I’ve missed you, Arcee.”

A smile was his reply. “I’ve missed you, too, partner.”

Jack didn’t know who moved first, but the in the next moment, he felt thin, but strong and sturdy arms wrapping around his shoulders. He pressed against a warm and solid chest, feeling a steady pulse spreading across the metal plating. They pulled away after a long moment, Jack reluctantly stepping out of the reach of her EM field.

“What about the others? Bumblebee? Bulkhead?” he asked. Raf and Miko would want to know about their former guardians, and he couldn’t help but wonder himself.

“They’re doing as well as… expected,” Arcee explained, pausing for a moment as she sought the appropriate word. “They keep themselves busy.”

The Autobot quickly averted her gaze, and it was then Jack realized. He had been sulking in his own misery all summer, while his friends tried their best to remain strong. Had it even occurred to their minds—to _his_ mind—that their guardians were just as broken?

The boy swallowed thickly. “What about Optimus?”

“He must uphold his duty as a Prime. He focuses on commanding all of us now, and negotiating with your people.”

All of the Autobots. Jack remembered a year ago, he was convinced the five Autobots hiding in an abandoned military silo in the middle of the desert were the only ones on Earth. Not realizing there were whole other _teams_ working with the US military.

“And Ratchet does his best with repairs.” It was then Arcee leaned in close and dropped her voice to a low murmur, like they were in the middle of a crowd. Not miles away from the closest civilization. “I think he misses you, too.”

Jack practically giggled at the thought of the grumpy war veteran. When not tying a patient to a medical berth for repairs or monitoring frequencies during a mission, Ratchet spent most of his time trying to run the teenagers out of the base. A mission he had failed for an entire year.

The army brat quickly sobered. “I… I wish I could see them. It’s just been… so long.”

To a being that was _millions_ of years old, he knew the three months they had been apart must have passed by like a blink of an eye. To him, it was the longest weeks of his life. Arcee gave one of her rare, warm smiles, one that assured him that everything was going to be okay. Then it turned coy.

“Well… there _is_ nothing going on at the base,” she hummed. She looked up thoughtfully for show, ignoring Jack’s widening eyes. “I suppose… a _quick_ visit wouldn’t hurt.”

His eyes instantly became as large as dinner plates. It took a solid minute for him to speak, only able to make sputtering sounds. Finally his tongue began to work.

“I-Is that even possible?” the boy demanded. “What about the treaty? What about Galloway?”

Arcee gave a slight shrug. It was a human custom, so the movement was imitation more than anything else. “What Galloway doesn’t know, won’t hurt him.”

Jack spent another minute just staring. Then his lips curled in a wide, happy smile. Just the thought of it—being with the Autobots again—made him shake his head in disbelief.

“We could get in so much trouble for this,” he warned, but his chuckle ruined the heaviness of it.

“We do have a habit of looking for it, don’t we?” Arcee drawled with her own amused tone.

With a blur of movement, she shifted back into a motorcycle, open saddle inviting. Jack instinctively took a step forward, only to hesitate.

His chest tingled again, and he was reminded of his “gift.” And who gave it to him. He opened his mouth, to tell her, to confess. But no sound came out.

He still couldn’t find the words. He still wasn’t sure she would forgive him. Here he was, excited to be reunited with the Autobots, when he spent his summer with their mortal enemy. Jack breathed through his nose.

No, he couldn’t tell them.

He quickly swung his leg over the saddle, and took a firm hold of the handles. He had just settled when there was a hum. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as a foreign energy filled the air. There was a flash of light, so bright that the boy instinctively squinted. When his vision adjusted, he was greeted with a swirling vortex of green, blues, and luminous white.

There was a growl of an engine, and the human and the Autobot pulled through the groundbridge together. 

* * *

Brilliant light filled Jack’s vision, so much so that all he saw was white. He _felt_ the delicate fabric of space and time warp around him, _pulling him_ , as it desperately tried to correct the tear in the continuum. He knew it had no effect on mighty Cybertronians, but as a human, Jack felt the stress in every fiber of his being. The human knew the process was instantaneous, but it felt like _years_ had gone by.

Yet the unpleasant sensation ended all too soon. Jack received an onslaught of sensations that made his head spin. He was greeted by bright sunlight, but instead of dry, hot air, there was moist, warm humidity that pressed against his skin. He scented salt filtering through the atmosphere, along with gas, oil, and gunpowder. It was then he was aware that the roar of the groundbridge was replaced by the roar of an aircraft. Along with growls of engines, clanking of equipment, and shouts of technicians, soldiers, and commanders.

Jack finally dared to open his eyes and realized instantly where he was.

Diego Garcia.

NEST headquarters.

Arcee slowly pulled through the chaos of the base, careful not to collide with any of the dozens of obstacles. Jack felt horribly exposed, being the only one out of uniform, but no one paid him any mind, too caught up in their tasks.

Suddenly a loud rev of an engine filled the air, echoing off the buildings of the base. Followed by another, and another. It seemed like Sideswipe and Sunstreaker were racing on the runway again. And was that Bumblebee? Jack instinctively turned to find the source, but only to see an angry technician run across his vision.

“HEY! Get them off the track! I have a bird coming in—” He glanced at his watch and made an undignified sound. “I’m not being paid enough to deal with this!”

Jack chuckled under his breath, but he didn’t see the outcome as Arcee pulled into a hanger. He instantly recognized this one had high-ceilings and wide, open space. Not even the mass of soldiers and engineers could fill it. Suddenly the teenager saw movement in the corner of his eye, and glanced over only to see a flash of white. Smokescreen.

The former Elite Guard was hunched over, with a ring of NEST soldiers around him. They all sat comfortably, watching him, as a captain stood and barked over the noise.

“This is how you do a Decepticon head kill-shot,” he explained, pointing up.

Just as two soldiers in all-black armor fell from the rafters, landing square on Smokescreen’s shoulders. The Autobot immediately fell to all fours in mock pain, having the pair slip off. Only for the skilled soldiers to land on their backs, assault rifles trained on the Cybertronian’s optics.

Jack was pulled from the training session as Arcee rolled further into the hanger. Allowing the army brat to see another familiar figure. Shorter than some Cybertronians, but stocky with sturdy armor, especially with a med-pack strapped to his back. The teen could recognize that ambulance white and red anywhere.

“Ratchet!” he cried out with excitement.

Instantly the old Autobot froze mid-tap, servos hovering over the keys of the computer he was monitoring.

“By the AllSpark…” Ratchet gasped, whirling around and glancing down. Sure enough, his optics widened at the sight of the teenaged human. The medic let out one of his famous sputters. “H-h-how did you get here? You’re not—” Then he settled a glare at the motorcycle that Jack clung to. “Arcee!”

Recognizing that famous scolding tone, the army brat promptly stepped off, allowing Arcee to transform to her full height.

“Jack is only visiting for a little bit,” the femme defended. She placed her servos on her hips. “I’ll bring him home before dinnertime.”

“That’s not the issue!” Ratchet spat. “Do you _know_ the trouble Optimus went through to secure the alliance all over again? Do you _want_ to jeopardize our operations?”

The accusation made Jack flinch. He was so excited with the idea of seeing everyone, he hadn’t thought of the consequences, and why he was kicked out of NEST in the first place. Guilt pricked his chest. Maybe he shouldn’t have come…

However, Arcee showed no remorse whatsoever.

“He can’t possibly do as much harm as Galloway has,” the two-wheeler argued, waving an exasperated servo.

“Arcee…”

“What? If he’s not here, I don’t have to play nice.”

Ratchet’s optics flashed and he opened his mouth, only to pause when he noticed the little figure by Arcee’s leg. He looked to her, and when he reopened his lips, a series of clicks, whirrs, and beeps came out. They strung together, forming words that no human could ever replicate. Sounds that a human _shouldn’t_ replicate.

It only gave Jack a headache.

 _“I know being separated from your charge has been difficult for you—it’s been difficult for all of us,”_ Ratchet buzzed. The teenager hoped he was a good actor, trying to stare blankly, even as his head was tilted, listening. _“But this is an unacceptable way to handle it.”_

 _“I can handle it just fine, Ratchet,”_ Arcee retorted. _“If there’s any trouble, I will accept full responsibility.”_

_“That’s what I’m worried about.”_

With a frustrated huff, the motorcycle looked back down at her partner. Jack just attempted to look clueless, even as his stomach knotted and his skull pounded. A part of him _knew_ he should tell her. But like so many things, he didn’t know where to begin.

Even if they believed him, they would topple over from a spark attack than actually be impressed. And last thing he needed was the following conversation to lead to mentioning the “lessons” he had been receiving. Besides, obviously they didn’t want him to hear any of that, and Jack didn’t want to make the situation more awkward than it already was.

So the human stayed quiet, and did not tell his guardians he spoke their language.

Before he could change his mind, another deep growl of an engine reverberated across the hanger. Jack turned to see another vehicle. It was an all jet-black GMC Topkick truck, gleaming under the bright fluorescent lights. The car rolled to a stop, and the doors popped open. Allowing Jack to hear a familiar drawl.

“Well, well, well… _Look_ what the cat dragged in.”

The army brat turned to see a tall, lanky man dressed in a flashy black suit exit the passenger seat, shutting the door behind him. His curly, salt-and-pepper hair was cut short to his scalp, and those black eyes peered at him like a critical hawk.

“Hey, Simmons,” Jack greeted.

Well, at least they hadn’t kicked Seymour Simmons out, yet. But as a consultant from Sector Seven, a 100-year-old organization specializing in Cybertronians, it was unlikely. Still, the boy couldn’t help but eye the man warily, as memories that weren’t his flashed across his mind.

Then his attention was diverted as a second figure stepped out of the driver’s seat. Broad-shouldered, tall, and lean with muscles, the man held himself with authority. He was wearing an all-black set of armor, even in the warm weather outside. Bronze hair was cut short and seasoned brown eyes scanned every inch of his form.

“What are you doing here?” Lieutenant Colonel William Lennox asked, but his tone was more curious than hostile.

“Um, visiting,” Jack confessed, trying to sound innocent.

“Oh, yeah?” Simmons pressed, pausing in front of him and crossing his arms over his chest. “Where’s your visitor’s pass?”

“Uh…”

He couldn’t help but glance at Arcee, and instantly the pair of men followed his gaze. Simmons let out a laugh. Lennox frowned.

“You know I could arrest you,” the former Sector Seven agent threatened, but his tone wasn’t nearly as serious.

“Yeah,” Jack shrugged.

Simmons smiled. “I like you.”

Meanwhile, Lennox just glared up at Arcee. “You could have checked with me, first.”

He held a much more scolding tone, but the Autobot defended herself calmly.

“It was a last minute decision,” she huffed.

Lennox rolled his eyes and shifted his gaze to Jack. The teenager instantly tensed as sharp eyes scrutinized fell on him once again, like a defendant standing up to a grand jury. Finally the lieutenant colonel made his decision.

“You leave in two hours,” he said in an iron voice. “That should give you plenty of time to catch up.”

“Yes, sir,” Jack hummed obediently, even though he was bursting with excitement.

The NEST commander’s stern expression was broken by a quirk of the lips—a hint of the warm, compassionate nature under the rigged discipline. It disappeared as quickly as it appeared, Lennox whirling around to face Ratchet.

“Any word from them yet?” he asked in that authoritative tone, back to business.

“No, not—” the medic started to answer, only for a beep from the monitor to interrupt him. He turned his attention to it. “Hold on.”

Jack didn’t hear the rest of the conversation. Suddenly something large and blunt poked his back, making him jump sky-high. He whirled around to confront the source, only to meet ice-blue optics and a stone face where the truck had just been. Ironhide.

“What?” the teenager demanded.

Suddenly there was a sound of air, like a sharp intake, even though he knew that Cybertronians did not breathe. Then—

“You smell like Megatron,” the Autobot growled, almost dangerously.

Instantly every muscle in Jack’s body tensed and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up straight. They could _smell_? When could they _smell_? The boy felt like a crook who had just been caught by the cops’ K-9 unit.

Suddenly there was a sharp sound from Arcee, but the teen was too panicked to translate. Ironhide huffed in agitation. It was then Jack realized. He whirled around, looking up at his partner. She only gave him that reassuring smile.

She _knew_.

It was then that loud, familiar hum filled the air. Green light poured into the hanger. Only a few heads glanced up at the swirling portal; the rest acted like they were used to the impossible phenomenon.

There was a flash, and then a roar of an engine filled the air. Jack knew that sound. It was one he heard every day for a year, so loud, so deep, so _powerful_ , it seeped into his bones. Bright, warm crimson and calm, cool blue shades filled his vision. The colors came together in a shape of a semi-truck, twice as large as even Ironhide’s alt mode. The truck rolled to a stop in the center of the scrutinizing stares. The driver’s door popped open and a loud whoop of victory echoed.

“Hit the jackpot, baby!”

A broad form slipped out of the semi-truck, dressed in full battle armor. A helmet was ripped off, to reveal a bald head shiny with sweat and a wide smile of white teeth. Chief Master Sergeant Robert Epps reached back inside the vehicle, pulling out a crate. Jack could tell it was heavy with how it dragged down the man’s arms, but his pace was not hindered as he crossed the space to the chatting group. He slammed the crate on a nearby table with a loud bang that even shook the piece of furniture.

Instantly Jack and the other humans huddled around like it was a treasure chest, just as Epps popped open the lid. Allowing a cerulean light to pour forth, and a soft hum sounded. Jack leaned forward, feeling the tingle of energy that radiated from the bright crystals that lay within the crate.

Energon.

“A lot more where that came from,” Epps exclaimed proudly, still wearing that broad grin.

It was then there was a sound of shifting gears behind them. The humans turned to see the semi-truck change shape. It stood up on two, solid legs that held up a large, broad, and strong form. Jack met calm, hard optics and a smooth, stern face.

His heart beat against his ribs. He ignored the flurry of mixed emotions that welled up to his chest, as he instantly recognized the figure.

Optimus Prime.

“The energon mine was one of the Decepticon’s smaller operations,” the Autobot leader explained in his slow baritone. “Its minimal security allowed us to secure it without much resistance. But—” The Guardian Knight nodded to Epps. “—it will sustain us for a time.”

There were relieved gasps and even laughs. Another flash, revealing a large, green Humvee. It paused beside the Prime, allowing half a dozen soldiers to pile out. They looked battle-weary, covered in grime and soot and blood, but their bright eyes showed their excitement. Lennox immediately recognized it.

“Excellent work, men!” he praised.

Cheers immediately replied.

The Humvee transformed into a large, bulky Transformer. Although he was not as tall as Optimus, he made it up with thick armor plating. Bulkhead looked just as happy as his human allies.

However, the colonel sobered as he turned to Epps. “Any casualties?”

“Draugn has a sprained ankle and Sartoris has a nasty cut on his arm,” his best friend replied. “But—”

He was interrupted by another flash, this one accompanied by a frantic engine. A red-hot Ferrari sped into the hanger, already transforming before it came to a complete stop. Revealing another mech, holding a limp soldier in his servo.

“And then there’s that,” Epps added, but his voice held no mirth. Instantly the gathered humans rushed forward.

“What happened?” Lennox demanded.

“The ‘Cons played dirty,” Mirage replied in a clipped accent. “A drone shot at a cluster of energon. He couldn’t escape the explosion. I took him the klik I realized he was still alive.”

The Autobots slowly, _gently_ laid the figure down on the cold floor. He retracted his stained servo, stepping away as Lennox replaced him by the soldier’s side.

“Torres!” he cried. “Torres, can you hear me?” When he received no reply, he raised his voice to a sharp yell, “I need a corpsman!”

Jack stepped forward, but he didn’t know why. He instantly regretted it.

A sharp, horrible, repulsive smell assaulted him, so violently he flinched back. It took him several seconds to decipher the scent. Charred flesh.

He looked back, only for bile to rise up into his throat. Instead of a man, there was the bloody, blackened body. The armor that was meant to protect his vitals was completely burned black, and the fatigues underneath were torn and vaporized. It seemed the right side received the worst of it. The exposed skin was a hellish red, interrupted by black crevices. Crimson blood seeped onto the floor. Jack tried to find features of a distinctive face, but he couldn’t.

Suddenly he was shoved to the side as a pair of medics rushed forward. Only Lennox remained as the humans and Cybertronians stepped out of the way. Jack noticed Ratchet had neared, but as a Cybertronian doctor, there was little he could do. All they could do was wait, for several, long, agonizing moments, then—

Jack started as suddenly a ragged, high-pitched, blood-curdling scream erupted. Suddenly the still body came to life—kicking, punching and flailing frantically.

“Hold him down!” Lennox ordered, and several soldiers stepped forward.

The sound—that didn’t even sound _human_ —only seemed to worsen. Even a couple of the Autobots winced, audial fins flattening at the ear-spitting shrieks. Jack could only watch, frozen, as the medic wrestled the writhing body, a syringe in hand. Ignoring the rapid, slurred, incoherent babbling that filled the inhuman screeches.

Lennox looked up, ordering, “Jack, get out of here. _Now_.”

Simmons took that as his cue. He took the teenager by the arm, spinning him around and yanking him out of the spot he had been glued to. A firm hand on his back ushered Jack out of the hanger, the screams of pure, raw agony following him.

  



	3. Beacon

Jack saw the body writhing in front of him. He heard the blood curdling screams, filling the air. The image filling his vision, he didn’t see the cup of water until it was waved in front of his face. The boy jumped a little, blinking and the figure disappeared. He looked up to see another.

“Drink something,” Simmons ordered.

Jack didn’t realize his hands were trembling until he reached up, hesitantly taking the drink. He tentatively sipped the cool water as the agent moved away.

“Sorry you had to see that,” the man apologized as he sat in the chair across from the poor boy. “I’m sure that’s not what you had in mind when you came here.”

They had retreated to an isolated breakroom, filled with lonely chairs, a station for coffee and water, and even a couple vending machines. It was deathly quiet, compared to the bustle of the base and the buzz of the Autobots’ main hangar. Jack tried to focus on the silence, rather than what was echoing in his ears. It was hard.

The grip on the cup tightened. He _hated_ war. All it did was bring pain and suffering and loss. It hurt innocent people. It tore families apart. It tore _his_ family apart. Now there was another family out there—

No. He couldn’t finish that thought.

“H-he’s going to make it through, right?” Jack blurted in a low voice. Simmons considered his question for a long moment.

“Energon poisoning is nasty,” the man confessed reluctantly. “He’s young, though.”

It did almost nothing to assure the teenager, but he realized it was all the agent could offer. If it was a natural combustion, it was already a critical situation, but energon made it so much worse. It was the source of all Cybertronian life, the fuel for all of their technology. However, the substance was highly toxic to humans.

Instead of a renewing ability, the energy of the alien crystals had a degenerative effect on organic cells, like radiation. Slow and painful, it destroyed a human from the inside out.

But not for Jack.

“Why?” he murmured in a barely audible voice. Simmons perked up at the question. “Why am I immune to energon, but no one else is?”

“Dark energon is… different,” the agent argued.

Jack snapped, “ _How_? All it does is destroy. Not even the Autobots can handle it. If anything, it should _kill_ me.”

Before the man could reply, the door swung open, revealing a weary Lennox. Instantly the question bubbled up Jack’s throat, but he was too afraid to ask it. Simmons did it for him.

“How’s the kid?” he inquired.

“In surgery,” Lennox answered in a sigh. “They’re trying to flush the energon from his systems.”

Jack did not want to mention how little effect that procedure had. Instead, he watched as Lennox slumped in a chair across from him. It was only then the teenager noticed how the NEST commander seemed to age from the last time they met. Dark bags lay under his eyes, and his frown-lines seemed to have deepened.

“Pentagon’s gonna have a field day with this,” Lennox sighed, running a hand through his greying hair.

“Well, what do they expect when we send our boys into a mine full of combustible material?” Simmons retorted.

“Wait,” Jack interrupted, perking up. “You mean the _‘Bots_ could get blamed for this?”

“As far as the Pentagon’s concerned, we all wouldn’t be here right now if it wasn’t for the ‘Bots.”

“But what about NEST? I thought the whole point was—”

“A lot of things have changed since the last time you were here, Jack,” Lennox interrupted. “You can’t just go hang out with the ‘Bots after a day of school anymore. Negotiations have been… tense.”

Jack could only stare, trying to digest the NEST commander’s words. He looked between the two men.

“The Autobots are our _allies_ ,” the boy argued. “It’s the Decepticons that are—”

“—only here on Earth to collect energon, so they can fuel their technology to continue fighting Autobots.”

A blink. This time it took several moments for the teenager’s brain to translate that statement. The Pentagon _was_ blaming the Autobots. The only reason Decepticons had set up operations on Earth was because of the presence of their mortal enemy. They were only interested in their war, and nothing else, not even the small beings that died in the crossfire.

Like a lion with its sights set on a gazelle, completely oblivious to the defenseless human beside it. The Decepticons only cared about the Autobots, and were no threat to humanity.

“They actually _think_ that?” gasped Jack.

Lennox’s look told all. The teenager couldn’t even fathom such an idea. It couldn’t be farther from the truth.

The Decepticons were cold, ruthless, and unforgiving. When their brutality destroyed their own homeworld of Cybertron, the war had spread to other solar systems. Ruining _hundreds_ of planets. Then there was Earth.

It had once been a Decepticon outpost, stolen from an Autobot colony. The Cybertronians stored scores of energon, hoarding spoils of war. It was meant to be a refueling station, which attracted the weary and desperate Decepticons, that were scattered after the Fall of Cybertron. Only when the planet’s natural magnetic fields of the north pole interfered with the _Harbinger_ ’s navigational system, it sent it crashing into the Earth.

Leaving Megatron stranded, and forced into stasis lock for thousands of years.

Only to be found by humans.

Tortured, experimented on, and effectively humiliated, the vengeful warlord would stop at nothing to punish those responsible. He had already destroyed those responsible for his capture—Sector Seven. He had ripped apart their headquarters and assassinated their numbers one-by-one. Until only Simmons was left.

Now the rest of humanity was next. However, it was true that the Decepticons did not engage with civilians. They were careful not to expose their identities, disguised themselves around humans, and preferred to avoid civilization at all costs. It was likely a tactical decision. Megatron could direct his forces towards collecting energon and fighting the Autobots and their military allies, rather than face several billion humans at once.

“Can’t you do anything?” Jack demanded.

“Trust me, I’ve tried,” Lennox sighed. “But Fowler was better at getting to them than I was.”

 _Was_. Fowler wasn’t around anymore. He was—

It was then the question that had been burning in Jack’s chest since he last saw the man bubbled up to the surface.

“Is he… okay?” the boy asked timidly.

“He’s fine,” Lennox assured.

“He’s not…” He trailed off, not knowing how to phrase the question, and thankfully he didn’t have to.

“Fowler knows a lot of people in D.C. The judge even owes him a few favors. He was released on bail.”

“Can they do that for someone accused of treason?”

Simmons made a face, but Lennox explained patiently, “The thing is, prosecution doesn’t know anything about the ‘Bots, so as far as they’re concerned, Fowler didn’t sell any secrets to a foreign power. So now he’s being blamed for interfering with CIA operations.”

A lesser charge than Jack originally thought, but the teenager had a feeling that meddling with a government agency wasn’t a good thing, either.

The lieutenant colonel must have noticed his concern, because he added, “I just talked to him yesterday. Man’s driving himself up a wall with not having anything to do.”

That sounded like Fowler. The man lived on a full-time schedule. He constantly went from one side of the country to the other, delegating between the Autobots, NEST, and the Pentagon. Now all he could do was sit and do nothing, waiting for another’s hands to seal his fate.

“Is there any chance I can talk to him?” Jack asked hesitantly.

“Probably not the best idea, right now,” Simmons answered. “Not until the trial.”

The army brat nodded, understanding, but couldn’t help slumping his shoulders.

“It’s not your fault, Jack,” Lennox assured, like he could read the boy’s mind.

“…I know,” Jack sighed, but he did not believe the words.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, the army brat sipping on his water while Lennox stared between his feet and Simmons found an interesting spot on the wall.

Finally, the NEST commander broke by saying, “You can go home if you want, you know.”

Jack shook his head. “No. I came here to see the Autobots. I want to stay.”

He didn’t want to be alone again.

Lennox nodded, understanding. “I’ll take you back, then. Arcee’s worried about you.”

No doubt his protective guardian was working herself into a frenzy, knowing her charge was dragged away from her on the verge of a panic attack. Jack trailed after the two men through the maze-like base, though he had to quicken his steps to meet their purposeful strides. He noticed Lennox didn’t take him to the main hangar, but instead, Hangar E, the Autobot’s personal quarters.

It was about the same size as the other warehouse, except it was devoid of humans and full of Cybertronian technology. Or at least, the technology the Autobots currently had in their possession. Jack hadn’t even stepped into the expansive lobby when a large, slim blue figure filled his vision.

“Jack, are you alright?” Arcee demanded, already fussing over him like a mother hen.

“I’m fine, I’m fine!” the teen dismissed, raising his hands in the air. “I’m not some little kid!”

The Autobot shot him a look, but before she could say anything, there were heavy, slow pedes nearing them. Jack had to nearly crane his neck all the way up to meet the optics of Optimus Prime.

“I was not expecting your arrival,” the Autobot leader mused, and the teen did not miss the glance he sent Arcee, but he wouldn’t describe it as hostile. “I am relieved to see you are well.”

It depended on the mech’s definition of “well.” But instead of describing his summer’s downward spiral, the boy smiled warmly.

“It’s good to be here,” he replied simply instead.

He ignored the flurry of emotions that were not his rage in his chest. The boy couldn’t help but remember when Optimus Prime had left him in the mercy of Megatron—how he _let_ the vicious tyrant take him away, just so Jack wouldn’t be hurt in the ensuing fight. Even though the Decepticon leader had hurt him anyway. Then the Prime did not fight to keep the children in his custody, after everything they had been through together. If anything, it was like the Autobot leader wanted to be rid of the human charges.

_Because the Autobots made you useless._

Jack ignored the whisper in his mind, instead following Arcee further into the hangar. Only when he did, he heard the same trio of engines that greeted him when he first arrived, along with the sounds of transformation.

 _“New personal best!”_ Jack froze. Was that— _“You two need to learn to keep up.”_

No, impossible.

He understood _him_?

Jack looked over his shoulder, and sure enough, he was greeted with a flash of black and yellow.

Bumblebee.

The Camaro stepped into the hangar, with Sideswipe and Sunstreaker behind him, the twins rolling back and forth on wheels instead of pedes. The scout glanced down, optics going as wide and bright as moons.

 _“What is Jack doing here?”_ he whirred.

Jack’s headache evolved into a migraine.

He _understood_ him. Before, it had confused him how Raf could translate the series of beeps and whirrs so effortlessly. The genius had merely explained that he heard a pattern in the metallic sounds, that formed together in its own language. Jack had just thought the Hispanic boy was filling in the gaps, not understanding _Cybertronian_.

It wasn’t as fluid or natural like the others. The tone was methodical and plastic, devoid of inflictions, like an automated voice. Jack briefly remembered Ratchet had mentioned once that Bumblebee had a voice box prosthesis that allowed him to make basic communications, but could not replicate new sounds. It explained why Bumblebee could continue to speak in Cybertronian, even in that false voice, but could not speak English or other languages.

Jack didn’t hear Arcee’s reply, but he did feel a tentative servo on his shoulder.

“Jack? Everything okay?” his guardian pressed softly, kneeling down to his level.

The army brat didn’t notice that during his realization, he had frozen up in shock. To an eye or optic, it must have looked like he was having a stroke. He almost caved, almost told her. _That he understood Bumblebee_.

Then another sharp alarm went off.

Instantly everyone’s attention diverted to it, even Arcee’s. Ratchet was by the monitor in an instant, already tapping away. Only for the old Autobot to freeze.

“How can this be?” he gasped.

“What is it?” Lennox asked, stepping forward.

Ratchet’s optics went wide in shock. “It’s an Autobot beacon!”

“How can that be right?” Epps demanded from where he was lounging on a crate of supplies beside Ironhide. “Everyone’s here!” He tilted his head. “Right?”

While the master sergeant began counting the heads of the giant metal beings, Lennox trotted up the platform beside the monitor. Jack and Simmons followed him.

 “Where is it coming from?” the lieutenant colonel demanded.

Ratchet pulled up a map on the screen, which was interrupted by a pulsing dot. It zoomed in on the portion of planet around the blip, and Jack instantly recognized it.

“France?” he identified, his confusion only growing.

“Paris,” Lennox corrected, folding his arms over his chest, just as puzzled as the rest of them. “But how is that possible? We don’t have any NEST forces stationed there.”

“What would a ‘Bot be doing in Paris, anyway?” Epps asked.

“Maybe it wants to check out the tourists sites,” Simmons quipped.

“Could it be the, uh, ‘research team’?” Jack asked. He remembered that Lennox briefly mentioned them during his last visit. Another team of Autobots, that worked in seclusion rather than confront Decepticons.

“No,” the NEST commander answered. “They’re stationed in the States.”

Jack squinted at the blip—the beacon on the map. It made no sense. All the known Autobots were accounted for. A new arrival? It was possible, as the aliens were scattered after the Fall of Cybertron. It could have been a lone traveler, who found themselves stranded on Earth. But stranded in the middle of Paris, sending a beacon in hopes of help?

Jack was sure the city’s millions of residents would notice something like that. It was Lennox that said it first.

“Something’s not right.”

“Oh, good, I’m not the only one thinking that,” Simmons replied sarcastically.

“A Decepticon trap?” Epps guessed.

“I would not put it past Megatron’s devices,” Optimus rumbled, stepping up to the terminal.

“But why set up a trap in the capital of another country?” Jack asked. “Megatron doesn’t like humans.”

The Decepticon warlord would gain nothing orchestrating a brawl in the center of a populated area. There was no strategic value in the capital, anyway. The narrow streets and tall buildings would offer no room for the giants, and the crowds and vehicles and dozens of other obstacles would just interfere. And if Megatron, for some absurd reason, _wanted_ to expose their secret, he would not wait on the Autobots to do it.

“Then what if it _is_ an Autobot?” Bulkhead demanded “We can’t just leave them!”

“Unlikely,” Ratchet admitted as he meddled with the monitor, trying to isolate the frequency.

“What do you mean?” Lennox asked.

“It is an _ancient_ Autobot frequency. I haven’t seen something like this since the waning days of Cybertron. Before the Fall of Iacon, in fact.”

“Oh, that clears things up!” Simmons exasperated.

“So it _is_ a trap,” Arcee deadpanned.

“Or, the Decepticons are being nice enough to tell us right where they are,” Ironhide purred.

“Yeah, let’s go scrap ‘em!” cheered Smokescreen.

“Bright idea, let’s go in the middle of the human city and we all get caught,” Mirage sniffed.

“If it is an Autobot homing beacon, it is our responsibility to investigate its origins,” Optimus declared.

Sunstreaker grumbled, “I knew he was going to say that.”

“However, we must proceed with extreme caution.”

“And keep a low profile,” Lennox added. “It’s easy to get noticed in a place like Paris.”

The Prime nodded in agreement. “Arcee, Bumblebee, and Sideswipe, you are the best choices to navigate through such a densely populated area.”

They were still flashy cars, especially Sideswipe, who was a sleek silver corvette, but Jack supposed they blended in better than a giant semi-truck or a Humvee. However, they still had a problem.

“What about covers?” Jack pressed. When he was just given puzzled looks, he added, “You’re gonna need a face man. Someone who can speak on their behalf. A human that can run interference if their cover gets blown.”

“Good point,” Epps shrugged.

“I’ll go,” Simmons volunteered. “I’m a people-person.”

“Sending in a Sector Seven agent into what could be a Decepticon trap,” Lennox mused, and then shot the man a look. “I don’t think so.” When the former agent only frowned in disappointment, the lieutenant colonel decided, “I’ll go.”

“Yeah, let’s send in the only sensible commander on this whole damned island,” Epps drawled.

“I know how to shoot.”

“I thought we were trying to avoid a shoot out.”

Lennox wheeled around to face his friend to continue the argument, but then Jack spoke up.

“I can go,” the teenager volunteered.

“Absolutely not,” the NEST commander refused with a wave of his hand.

“I can pose as an American student. And I’m not a soldier or some military commander. I’m expendable.”

Arcee was the one to protest, “You’re not—”

“ _I am_. If something happens and there’s a fight, you guys have to answer for it. I don’t.”

Lennox frowned. If today’s earlier incident was anything to go by, NEST forces were limited. Every soldier counted, and if someone got hurt—got _killed_ —it would be the Autobots that would face the consequences. But no one was counting a six— _seven_ teen-year-old teenager.

“He’s right,” Simmons shrugged from his spot, leaning on a nearby table.

“I’m not endangering the life of a teenager,” said the NEST commander.

“I’ll be with Arcee and the others. I’ll…” Jack couldn’t help but hesitate, that voice whispering in his ear and the images flashing across his mind. Of how the Autobots abandoned him. He forced himself to say, “I’ll be fine.”

When the man didn’t look convinced, Arcee added, “I’ll look after him.”

Several moments of silence passed as Lennox looked at an interesting spot on a wall. Jack could practically see the man going through every possible scenario, and every possible conclusion. No doubt he was trying to find the one that ended with all of them going home. Finally the man sighed and slumped his shoulders in defeat.

 _“Fine_ ,” he ground out. Before Jack could give any kind of shout of joy, he added in a snap, “But you evac at the first sign of trouble.”

The army brat stood to attention like a soldier at a uniform inspect. “Yes, sir.”

Optimus nodded, as if he agreed with the decision. “Very well. Jack will accompany Arcee, Bumblebee, and Sideswipe. Ratchet, initiate transport.”

 

* * *

 

The groundbridge yawned open in a dark, damp alley and shut as soon as the convoy of Autobots slipped through. Jack swallowed the bile that rose into his throat. Going through the groundbridge the second time that day was almost as disorienting at the first one. It took him several long moments to drink in his surroundings. Only when he did, Jack gasped.

Stone buildings towered over him, covered in detailed carvings of gothic architecture. After centuries of age, they still stood proud and tall, the miniscule chips and faded color of the stone the only betrayal of erosion. The smooth avenues alternated between cobblestone and asphalt, which the Autobots effortlessly glided over.

Jack’s nostrils were filled with foreign scents of spices and an ancient, musky smell. Something acrid drifted through the air, but he couldn’t place it. It was significantly cooler than the humidity Diego Garcia, a strong wind rustling his clothes.

As an army brat, the boy had traveled to one side of the States to another. He had lived on military bases and navigated both small, isolated towns and bustling metropolises. But the city of Paris wasn’t like anything in America. The American couldn’t help but drink in every detail of the exotic city, etching into his memory.

The Autobots moved significantly slower than usual, keeping pace with the traffic that flowed through the capital. Crowds filled the sides of the roads, dressed in all different colors and styles and no person looked alike. No one batted the teenager or even the pristine, sleek vehicles an eye, as they continued on through their day in a calm, relaxed stride. There was no panic, no rush, like in American cities. Everyone enjoyed the present as it was, and relished in it like it could last forever.

Jack wished he had that luxury, to forget about the drama and excitement that filled his life on a day-to-day basis. He even wanted to take in the sites that surrounded him—the gigantic cathedral of Notre-Dame, the gleaming pyramid of Louvre, and the tall Eiffel Tower. But he realized he couldn’t.

This was a mission. They had to find the source of the signal. Millions of people filled the city, and all of them were none the wiser that there was a war in their streets.

“We’ll cover more ground if we split up,” Arcee spoke over the comms. The cool voice filling the interior of his helmet ripped Jack from his thoughts. “But remember boys: keep a low profile.”

 _“Understood,”_ Bumblebee clicked.

“Right,” Sideswipe agreed.

With that, the sports cars peeled away in opposite directions as the motorcycle continued forward. Jack eyed the monitor Ratchet supplied him with. The coordinates weren’t precise, and the best the medic could supply was the general vicinity of the source. It was like the signal was being distorted, coming in and out of existence and jumping from one area of the city to another. Ratchet hypothesized the stone architecture of the city was interfering with the frequency.

It seemed they would have to do this the old-fashioned way, then. That is, if they could determine a vague energy source in one of the oldest, largest cities in Europe. Jack had a sense it was easier to find a needle in a haystack.

Arcee pulled up to a small intersection, only having a handle of cars waiting patiently for the red light to turn. Meddling with the device in his hand, Jack was so distracted he almost didn’t hear it.

A low purr of engine filled the air. Instantly every muscle in Jack’s body froze. He felt Arcee’s engine sputter beneath him. Oh, no…

Sure enough, he glanced the side-view mirror to see a bright, _shiny_ flash of red. The Aston Martin pulled up beside the pair all too casually, finish so pristine that Jack could see his reflection.

“You two haven’t seen any _Autobots_ around here, have you?” came a purr in a taunting, cocky drawl.

“ _Knock Out_ ,” the two-wheeler growled, revving her engine threateningly.

The Decepticon ignored her. “Hey, Jackie-boy, how about I give you a _real_ ride?”

“No, thanks,” Jack spat.

“Oh, come on, don’t you want to be on the winning team?”

“I’m already on it.”

Knock Out made a noise of mock pain. “ _Oh_. You’re a cheeky one, aren’t you? No wonder Lord Megatron has taken such a fancy towards you.”

Jack’s face flushed without his permission and his grip tightened the handles. He did not appreciate the Decepticon medic was using his relationship with the warlord against him. If it could even be called a relationship.

“Ignore him,” Arcee murmured to him.

The army brat tried, but it was hard when the sports car moved on to revving his engine. Loudly. Of course, the obvious challenge riled the boy’s guardian up, who replied with growls of her own. They even inched forward, each trying to gain the slightest advantage over the other. Jack was ready for the pair to transform and begin a brawl in the middle of the intersection, until the light finally turned green.

Both vehicles shot forward with a roar. Jack wheezed as his body lurch at the sudden acceleration. Arcee was arguably the fastest Autobots on the planet—she was even renowned throughout the ranks for being too quick for the enemy to catch. Knock Out did not have the best combat abilities or even surgical expertise, but he made up for it with speed. He kept pace with the motorcycle, coming threateningly close more than once.

The stalemate ended when they caught up with traffic, the pair forcing to slow to prevent colliding with the sedans taking up both lanes. Knock Out growled in annoyance, giving Arcee the chance to surge forward. She narrowly weaved between two cars, speeding past them and leaving the Aston Martin behind. Before Jack could give a triumphant laugh, the Decepticon weaved out of the trail on traffic, turning onto the _sidewalk_.

There were startled screams as people scrambled out of the way as the sports car tore down the side of street. More than once he came too close to hitting an unsuspecting citizen. Jack could only yelp as Knock Out went by in a streak of red, suddenly veering _towards_ Arcee. The motorcycle was forced to break, allowing the Decepticon to take the lead with a mocking laugh.

With a frustrated growl, the Autobot tried to force her way by, but the Aston Martin veered back and forth, blocking her off. They pulled onto a main road, this one having twice as many lanes as the narrow avenue did. And twice as much traffic. Apparently it gave Arcee an idea.

“Might want to hold on to something,” was the only warning Jack received before the two-wheeler surged forward.

Straight into incoming traffic.

Jack’s terrified scream almost swallowed the orchestra of car horns that greeted them, along with the horrible screeches of tires and flashes of steel. The Autobot effortlessly dodged and weaved between the cars, that had much more difficulty avoiding her. The teenager cringed when a couple vehicles veered off the road and one slammed into another. He was all too relieved when Arcee pulled back on to the correct side of the road, Knock Out several car-lengths behind.

“Have you pinpointed the frequency?” the Autobot suddenly demanded.

“W-wha?” Jack stammered, his life still flashing before his eyes.

“The signal! Do you know where it’s coming from?”

Snapping back into reality with a start, the boy fumbled for the device with shaking fingers. To be greeted with a dot filling the screen, only a couple blocks away on the miniature map.

“I have it!” he exclaimed.

“Keep an eye on it,” his guardian ordered, her mirrors flashing as she adjusted them. “I’ll try to lose Knock Out.”

Sure enough, an angry growl came up from behind, assaulting Jack’s ears. Without warning, Arcee veered onto another street, jerking so suddenly that the rider’s entire body jolted at the movement. Then she took another turn, and another and another. The boy was starting to become disoriented with the rapid movements.

There was less traffic on the backstreets, the motorcycle passing the handful of cars effortlessly. However, so did Knock Out. The Aston Martin kept pace, engine revving threateningly and his crimson paint flashing a dangerous red. Jack gritted his teeth, knowing Arcee couldn’t outrun him forever. Where were the others?

Arcee made another turn, and the army brat glanced up only to see a white wall. A cargo contained filled the road ahead, the driver oblivious to the high-speed chase headed his way. Before Jack could work up a shout, the world tilted.

Arcee leaned on her side, the rider’s leg an inch from the ground. There was an awful, high-pitched squeal as the motorcycle skidded across the street, throwing up smoke and debris. Jack didn’t even notice the smell of burning rubber, still locked on the looming truck ahead. Then suddenly the white wall vanished, replaced by shadow. It took a full second for the teenager to register that Arcee had slid _under_ the truck.

Just as quickly the sunlight returned in a harsh glare, and the world panned back into place. Behind Jack, there was a furious shriek. He quickly glanced over his shoulder to see the truck still blocking the entire road, Knock Out still stuck on the other side. Apparently not even the low sports car could slide under the narrow gap.

High from the adrenaline rush, Jack let out a triumphant laugh and threw a fist. “See ya later, Doc Knock!” He glanced at the device. “Arcee, right here! Take a left!”

Even though the threat had passed, the Autobot did not slow down as she rounded the corner, just narrowly avoiding an incoming car. The teenager started at the monitor for several blocks until he finally ordered his partner to stop. She did so with a squeal of tires, but only when she did, Jack blinked.

“What is this?” Arcee muttered. “Are you sure you have the right coordinates?”

“Yeah! I mean, I think so,” Jack rebuked, only to meddle with the device yet again. “…I don’t know.”

 _“Jack?”_ Lennox’s voice came over the comms. _“Were you able to find the source of the frequency?”_

“It’s, uh, coming from a restaurant.”

_“What?”_

Jack glanced up at the building before him, covered in gothic design. There were up to a dozen iron tables filling the patio beside the street, full of lounging people, oblivious to the excitement that happened only a few streets over. The tables were covered in exotic cuisine and waiters walked to and fro. Unless the Autobot was hiding in a one-story restaurant or underneath one of the four-by-four tables, Ratchet’s device was seriously glitching.

 _“A Decepticon trick?”_ the old Autobot hypothesized.

“Pretty sure Megatron isn’t here for the food,” Jack replied.

 _“Are you sure, Jack?”_ Lennox pressed.

“The signal’s _there_ , but it keeps fading in and out like—”

Then Jack realized. Like a phone that couldn’t get a clear signal. Like there was _interference._ The boy doubted a building could ruin something like that, and if the Decepticons were jamming it, then he wouldn’t have been able to detect it at all. Then that meant—

“It’s underground,” gasped Jack.

 _“It’s_ what _?”_ Lennox exclaimed.

 _“And just how does an Autobot signal appear underneath a_ city _?”_ Simmons demanded.

“ _The first Autobots to arrive on your planet came eons ago_ ,” Ratchet explained. _“If the signal is emitting from an ancient site, it stands to reason the city was built_ over _it_.”

“Explains why the frequency was so old, and why we didn’t detect it until now,” Arcee concluded.

 _“If it’s underground, how are we supposed to get to it_?” asked Lennox.

 _“You could try your luck with the sewers,”_ Epps suggested. _“I mean, if you don’t mind—”_

“No,” Jack interrupted. “If it’s an ancient Autobot frequency, then it would have to be the older tunnels.”

 _“What are you talking about?”_ the NEST commander demanded.

“The catacombs. It’s coming from the Paris catacombs.”


	4. Chase

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I happened to get into a debate with some friends about this topic before updating this so I want to be clear and say I mean no disrespect with the events in this chapter.  
> I wanted to write a chase scene in a busy metropolis (something I have never done before), and an logical explanation of how that would happen, without copying the events of “Tunnel Vision.” I am also a huge history nerd and wanted to take advantage of the Autobots’ access to locations around the world. So, Paris happened to be my solution. Also, I write almost nothing without reason, so this chapter is used for character development more than anything.  
> That said, I hope you guys enjoy, and a warning: description of the deceased, and if that happens to bother you, you may skip this chapter

_“Of course, an ancient alien radio channel is coming from tunnels full of dead people,”_ Simmons ranted over the coms. _“Why didn’t I think of that?”_

Jack honestly couldn’t tell if the energetic man was being sarcastic or not.

“And how exactly are we supposed to get down there?” Arcee asked.

 _“There are entrances all around Paris,”_ Epps answered. _“Drive around a little bit and you’ll probably run into one.”_

“‘Cons are already here, so I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Jack replied.

_“’Cons?”_

_“I really don’t like this,”_ grumbled Lennox.

“If there’s a chance an Autobot is down there, we have to take it,” the teenager insisted.

_“Kid, come home. Let the Autobots take care of this.”_

“I’m not a kid.”

 _“Jack—_ ”

“Let’s go, Arcee.”

The guardian needed no convincing, taking off with a squeal of tires and a roar of the engine. She swerved back into traffic, passing cars at a steady rate as Jack pulled up a map of the city.

“We can try one of the cemeteries,” he suggested.

“Why would a burial ground lead to an underground network?” Arcee asked curiously, and Jack had to remember she had only been on Earth for a few years.

“The Paris catacombs were ancient stone mines built underneath the city,” the teenager recalled his lessons from world history class. “When the cemeteries were overflowing, they moved the remains to the reinforced tunnels.”

“So you think the Autobot signal’s really down there?”

“The catacombs stretch _deep_ underground. Maybe we can use them to access whatever’s making that frequency.”

That seemed to please Arcee, the motorcycle putting in a burst of speed. Jack now eyed their surroundings, trying to find anything that would look like an entrance to an ancient tomb. They had to find it, preferably before the Decepticons put a hole in the planet.

It was then a deep, deafening roar filled the air. The panicked squeal of tires sounded, making the hairs on the back of Jack’s neck stand on end. He looked over his shoulder, only to see dark blue steel, cold and menacing in the sunlight. Breakdown.

The Jeep rounded a corner, turning so sharply he skidded into the side of another vehicle. There was a terrible crash and a screech as the smaller car was batted out of the way and veered to the other side of the road. The Decepticon didn’t seem to notice, tearing after the runaway Autobot with another growl of his engine. Being one of the larger vehicles on the road, Breakdown easily knocked the other cars out of his way, his only focus on his enemy.

The Autobot had already noticed the new threat, charging forward. While Knock Out was more interested in toying with his opponents in a deadly race, Breakdown seemed filled with the intent to kill. Several times the Jeep rushed forward to ram the two-wheeler. Arcee just narrowly veered out of the way, and several times she almost ran into another vehicle or a person or another solid obstacle.

The motorcycle was forced onto the sidewalk at one point, just narrowly colliding with an old man. Jack doubted the civilian heard his apology over the terrified scream. Arcee twisted back on the road, cutting off yet another vehicle, only for a dark wall to appear beside her. Rider and motorcycle cried out as Breakdown’s side swiped into them. Jack gritted his teeth as pain jolted from his shoulder, but couldn’t address it, holding on for dear life as Arcee desperately tried to correct.

The two-wheeler leaned over the ground again, skidding across the street to slow her speed. She used the angle to round a corner, slipping between a narrow cobblestone alleyway between two buildings. Too narrow for Breakdown to follow.

The Decepticon growled menacingly, skidding to a stop where he had lost his prey. Jack laughed for the second time that day, feeling victorious that he and his partner outsmarted yet another Decepticon. The teenager raised his hand to shoot Breakdown a gesture, only to freeze when the top of the Jeep shifted.

A long, bulky barrel appeared on the roof of the vehicle, slowly pivoting to aim down the alleyway. A hum filled the air as the barrel of the cannon began to glow menacingly.

“Uh, Arcee!” Jack warned.

The side-view mirror flashed, followed by a startled rev of an engine. Jack’s body jolted and he just managed to stay in the saddle as the motorcycle shot forward, almost doubling her speed. They were only a matter of feet from the end of the alleyway. They could—

The army brat’s thoughts were interrupted by a high-pitched scream of discharged energon. There was a deafening clap of thunder, and Jack felt his bones rattle as a _powerful_ force slapped against him. He thought he felt Arcee swerve underneath him, but he wasn’t sure. His vision was suddenly covered by a thick, dark haze. He tried to gasp, only for foul debris to invade his mouth and nostrils. The teenager hacked, doubling over Arcee’s dash.

Just as suddenly his eyes were assaulted by harsh sunlight, so bright he had to squint. There was a squeal of skidding tires as the Autobot swerved around another corner.

Jack rapidly blinked his eyes, trying to make them adjust. Instead of pulling onto another street, Arcee sped down a walkway along the Seine River. The dark, murky waters cut through the heart of the city, stretching from each horizon. Jack eyed the skyline of Paris on the other side, the Eiffel Tower proudly standing over it.

Arcee didn’t even slow down as a staircase came into view, her front tire colliding with the first step and momentum sent her to the next. The result was an uncomfortable, jarring jolting of the world for several long seconds, until her back tire propped onto the busy intersection above.

Instead of mixing into the flow of traffic, the motorcycle twisted around, coming to a halt in the middle of the sidewalk. It earned several startled yelps and even confused stares from the surrounding people, but Jack was too busy paying attention to his racing heart. Panting for breath, the boy folded his arms on top of Arcee’s dash, burying his face against in the crook of his elbow.

It took him a moment to realized what had happened. Breakdown had _missed_.

The pair had gotten caught in the shockwave of the explosion, but Arcee had managed to use its momentum to launch herself to the other side. Part of Jack wondered how it was even possible they survived. Breakdown had them in his sights. After millennia of battles, there was no reason he miscalculated his attack. Whatever the reason, they were alive.

With a shaky sigh, Jack looked up. He was greeted with honks and growls of cars as they glided across the streets in a river of traffic. The chatter and murmur of civilians drifted across the air. But other than that, it was quiet.

“I think we lost them,” the boy sighed.

He glanced back up, only to see a dangerous flash of red.

“No, I don’t think so!” Arcee retorted, taking off at the same time as Knock Out, who rushed towards them.

Arcee once again raced against the traffic, cutting across several lanes while Knock Out forced his way past several unsuspecting cars. The motorcycle had only made it a block when another wall appeared from a side street. The two-wheeler veered and Jack screamed, just narrowly avoiding Breakdown’s nose from ramming them. The teenager looked over his shoulder, only to see _two_ angry Decepticons on their tail.

“Oh, _come on_!” the boy growled. “Don’t they ever just call it a day?”

“Well, they wouldn’t be ‘Cons if they were nice,” Arcee quipped. “Hold on, going to run a red light.”

The casual tone made Jack do a double take.

“Wait, wha—” he started, only to be cut off as the motorcycle sped forward.

Headed straight for a wall of traffic. Jack’s scream reached several octaves, as Arcee sped _in front_ of an oncoming car. The rider’s hearing was assaulting by the screams of tires and horns of angry vehicles, one coming so close that he instinctively raised an arm to defend himself. It only rewarded with his limb ricocheting off metal, flaring with pain. That would surely leave a bruise.

Arcee, despite her fluid speed, made to the other side none-too-gracefully. The Decepticons didn’t fare much better. Knock Out veered around the obstacle course of vehicles, careful not to have another of them scrape against his delicate finish. Breakdown had the opposite approach, just barging his way through, jolting cars to the side with horrible sounds of crunching metal. The stunt certainly slowed the pursuers, allowing Jack and the Autobot to gain some distance.

“Would really like some backup right about now,” the teenager drawled. Where were Sideswipe and Bumblebee? Were they lost in this metropolis, unaware that their comrades were in danger?

It didn’t take long for Knock Out and Breakdown to catch up, both growling dangerously. Arcee had left the congestion of the main avenues, instead speeding down narrow, barren back roads. Allowing Jack to see a silver Corvette, racing straight for them. Sideswipe.

However, the human was only confused as he and Arcee sped towards each other, head-on. Before the army brat could work up yet another yell, the motorcycle hiked up on her back wheel. There was a tremendous jolt as Sideswipe rammed into the two-wheeler underside. The Corvette’s narrow, low hood allowed Arcee to go up and over, but the momentum of the impact sent her high into the air. Jack felt his stomach fly up to his throat as the cruel grip of gravity dragged them back down.

Once they landed, the teenager heard the distinct sound of a transformation. He looked over his shoulder to see Sideswipe shifting in bipedal mode, as there was no civilians in sight. He charged toward the Decepticons, rolling his wheels back and forth like rollerblades.

It was Breakdown that met him, the mech transforming as he closed the distance between him and the Autobot. The Decepticon brought down his mighty hammer with such force that it cracked the very stone between their pedes. Sideswipe just narrowly avoided it, leaping off the ground before ricocheting off the side of the wall and scrambling onto Breakdown’s back. The mech flailed, trying to pull his smaller opponent off of him, but the Autobot clung on.

“ _Excusez-moi_ ,” Knock Out piped as he forced his way past the quarreling pair, staying hot on the pursuit.

By now, the Aston Martin had grown bored of the chase, racing towards Arcee with deadly determination. The motorcycle narrowly avoided him several times.

“Oof!” the Autobot grunted as the sport car rammed against her side, almost colliding with Jack’s leg.

The motorcycle swerved, trying to correct herself, but Knock Out would not have it. He suddenly veered, right into her back tire. Both Autobot and the human wailed as the two-wheeler spun out-of-control across the street. However, this time Arcee couldn’t correct herself, as they came to a violent, sudden halt. Jack wailed as he was thrown off, landing onto the hard cobblestone in a tangle of limbs. He rolled across the ground like a ragdoll, moaning as he finally came to an unpleasant stop.

“Jack!” Arcee wailed.

“Ha!” Knock Out laughed. The teenager was only faintly aware of a purr of an engine pausing beside him. “What did I tell you? You’re on the wrong side, little boy.”

Jack gritted his teeth, and pressed his forehead into the ground. Pain radiated across his body in waves. He didn’t think anything was broken, but hitting solid stone from over a hundred miles an hour still hurt. Suddenly there was a stir in the back of his mind. A flicker of something he could not name. Then irritation.

 ** _Learn to be more careful_**.

Jack groaned. Suddenly a high-pitched squeal of tires assaulted his hearing. The teenager looked up, only to see a flash of yellow. Bumblebee sped from around the corner, skidding across the street in a sharp turn. Ramming his side right into Knock Out.

There was a terrible crunch of metal as the sports cars collided, followed by an ear-splitting sound of something sharp slicing across metal as Bumblebee slowly pulled away. Sure enough, the spotless Camaro was tainted by dents, scratches, and even red paint transfer, but the flawless Aston Martin was worse. Knock Out’s side was completed destroyed, the front passenger door even dented inwards, barely clinging onto its hinges. Immediately there was a furious roar of an engine.

“YOU RUINED MY _PAINT JOB_!”

The Aston Martin’s tires spun rapidly, and the harsh smell of burning rubber struck Jack’s nostrils. Knock Out pivoted around the fallen teenager in a sharp 180, tearing down the road in pursuit of the runaway assaulter.

Jack shakily got to his knees, panting. Suddenly there was a sound of a transformation behind him. A servo pressed against his chest, propping him up, while wrapping around his shoulder protectively.

“Jack, are you alright?” Arcee pressed.

“Ngh, yeah,” the boy moaned as he slowly rose to his feet, his partner acting as a support.

“I’m calling Ratchet. It’s dangerous for you here.”

“Arcee, I’m _fine_. I—” Something caught the corner of Jack’s eye, and he froze mid-sentence. “Wait a sec, over there!”

It was a small cemetery, only a couple blocks long, but it was full of pale, lifeless stones jutting out of the ground. Tombstones. The property was cut off from the street with a tall, iron fence, the metal curved in intricate designs. In the center of the cemetery was a stone tower, standing above the old graves with ancient pride. Maybe it was just old enough.

It took them a full five minutes to ensure the coast was clear before the Autobot approached the fence in her bipedal mode. She scooped up Jack in her arms, the human clinging to her neck, and vaulted over the barrier in a single bound.

She was careful to avoid the jagged lines of tombstones, even stepping over them to avoid crushing them. They were all different shapes and sizes, some fresh and others chipped and faded with age. Some names he could read clearly. Others had no names at all. There were so many and so close together, even Jack had difficulty moving past them all, and the Autobot even more so.

“Are all humans buried this way?” she asked, curious.

Jack supposed it was an odd concept to the alien. It was never a subject they really talked about, but the human had gotten the idea that burial rites were complicated on Cybertron. As far he understood, the remains of a Cybertronian were disposed based on their status in life. Those from the higher caste were sealed away, some even given great tombs. However, the careful treatment decreased as it went lower and lower on the ladder, until it reached the untouchables. Those so low, that it was considered taboo to touch their husk, even for a burial. Other lowly ‘Bots, such as drones, whose only purpose was to serve, were… recycled. Jack did not ask.

The custom reminded Jack of the reason why the Great Civil War started in the first place. That Megatron wanted to challenge the Council’s leadership, not for power, but for equality. To change a rigid society where not even the dead were treated the same. And as an untouchable miner from Kaon, the human could understand why Megatron was so concerned.

The pair crossed over to the tower, which Jack found was hollow inside, and just large enough for Arcee to stand to her full height. She was safe from prying eyes in here. The teenager quickly scanned the barren room, only for his eyes to look upon an old, rusted grate. It was against the wall, cutting out a perfectly rectangular black abyss.

“There,” Jack murmured, stomach knotting as he crossed over to it.

The teenager peered through the bars, only to be greeted with blackness. A stale, dry scent drifted up his nostrils, but not the harsh, vile smell he was expecting.

“Alright, who wants to go down the creepy old tomb, first?” the boy asked in a flat tone.

“Allow me,” Arcee offered, a blade ejecting from her arm.

Jack stepped to the side as the Autobot sliced across the chain that kept the gate locked, before prying it out of the way. The gate lead to a stone staircase, leading down into the earth until it was swallowed up by the darkness. The teenager pulled out his phone and shone the light of the screen down narrow corridor, but it did not pierce the black shroud.

Jack swallowed and dared to press his heel on the first step. Immediately the world spun, so violently that the boy swayed. He just barely managed to catch himself on the edge of the frame. He didn’t even hear Arcee’s shout, as memories that weren’t his flashed across his eyes.

_There were only the bowels of Kaon. Dark and desolate. He would not see the sun of the surface for vorns. Some areas were filled with acidic air. Some were filled with toxic rivers. It was inhabitable, yet it was the miners that lived here._

The boy shuddered. It had been _months_ , but Jack still remembered the images all too vividly. When the teenaged human had witnessed Megatron’s memories. He had relived the tyrant’s life, from his imprisonment as a slave in the mines of Kaon to his rise as Lord of the Decepticons. All thanks to the cortical psychic patch, that the Decepticons refitted for a Cybertronian to connect with a human. However, the procedure was not without consequences.

Not only had Jack entered Megatron’s mind, but fragments of his ancient knowledge had _transferred_ into the younger being. What the tyrant hated most in the universe, had now become Jack’s greatest fear.

“You don’t have to do this,” Arcee pressed.

“Yes, I do,” Jack retorted.

He didn’t want to be a little boy scared of the dark, anymore. He definitely didn’t want to return to the Autobots empty-handed, just because of a bad dream. That’s all it was. A bad dream.

Jack gripped onto the stone, breathing through his nose, until the spinning world panned back into place. Bile crept up his throat; he swallowed it back down. The boy took a heavy sigh and steeled himself. He could do this.

The pair descended into the darkness. 

* * *

Jack remembered the day he first met Megatron. He had went with Arcee, Bulkhead, and Miko to explore an abandoned energon mine when they detected it was still giving off energy signatures. Only when they explored its expansive tunnel systems, they had come face-to-face with the Decepticon lord, interrupting the execution of his treacherous lieutenant, Starscream. The following battle had disturbed the unstable soil, collapsing the entire mine.

Jack had wandered the dark, twisting network of ruined tunnels of hours, but instead of finding his partner, he had found the leader of the Decepticons. Trapped, weak, and defenseless, the young human realized he was the first being in millions of years to have the opportunity to slay the monstrous tyrant. Instead Jack had spared Megatron, _saved_ him.

Now here he was, wandering the catacombs of Paris.

Like in the collapsed tunnels, Jack couldn’t see a thing. Arcee had tried to illuminate the darkness with her headlights, but it did little to alleviate the oppressive darkness. The pool of light cut off at a wall of black, and went no further. That stale, musky scent filled the air, sometimes so strong it managed to make Jack cough. The walls of the narrow corridor pressed against his sides. Even though, he kept a hand on the wall, afraid that if he let go, he would vanish into the depths.

Arcee was having a little more difficulty navigating the tight tunnels. She was almost completely doubled over, wings flat on her back and balancing on her haunches. A couple times she was forced to transform into a motorcycle, rolling either beside or ahead of Jack. Sometimes the boy took a seat in the saddle. However, the smooth ground would turn into rugged terrain, obviously not repaired in a very long time.

Jack didn’t know how long they traveled. It must have been only a matter of minutes, but it felt like hours had gone by. The tunnels went down and down and down, stretching on and on and on. The corridor continuously split, into two or three or four paths until the army brat could not look over his shoulder without becoming disoriented. He just hoped Arcee’s internal navigation system remembered the way out of the pitch-black labyrinth.

Their only guide was the little device in Jack’s hand, and he hoped at least it knew where they was going. The signal faded in and out, either detected as high-pitched beeps or static. The teenager followed the tunnels where the monitor seemed to have less difficulty reading the frequency. He hoped that meant they were getting close.

Jack was so engrossed in the monitor in his hand, he didn’t notice the object on the ground until his legs tripped over it. The boy let out a wail as he fell face-first, just barely managing to catch himself. Jagged rock dug into the skin, making him hiss in pain.

Jack quickly assured Arcee when she gave a concerned rev. The two-wheeler was back in vehicle mode to squeeze through the constricting tunnels, so she was unable to stop her partner’s fall. Jack climbed back to his feet, dusting himself off, and looked over his shoulder to see what had tripped him. Only to blanch.

It was thin, but long. It was a discolored, pale shade, but possessed a brown, molten color of age. A bone. A _human_ bone.

As the son of a nurse and having watched thousands of medical shows, Jack instantly recognized it as a femur of a leg. And that was it. No tibia or fibula, no tarsals or metatarsals. No ribs or skull or the rest of the skeleton. Just a single bone, utterly alone, directly in the center of the corridor.

He and Arcee had been wandering in dark, barren hallways for so long, that the boy had almost forgotten where they were, and what its main purpose was. The cold, hard reminder made his stomach knot. The tunnels of Kaon pressed against him.

“Are you going to be okay?” Arcee’s voice cut through his train of thought.

Jack realized he must have failed to hide his horrified expression, and he remembered why his partner was concerned. He had told her about his phobia, brought on ever since he and his classmates went on a field trip to explore the Pentagon. It would automatically bring on a vicious panic attack.

The teenager breathed through his nose, pushing the edges of anxiety down. Knowing someone had _died_ where he stood was one thing. However, he could stand in a cemetery. There was no murder or killing there, just the deceased respectively laid to rest. Usually.

 _That’s all this place is_ , Jack told himself. _It’s not Kaon, it’s not 9/11. It’s just a really old tomb._

He and Arcee continued on. The teenager continued his vigil for the frequency, despite he was painfully aware that the tunnels were becoming less and less bare. Arcee was having difficulty maneuvering in both modes. Jack just told himself not to look down, yet when he did, he swallowed and glued his gaze back to the monitor.

Jack’s mother always told him she always wanted to go to Paris, and she fully planned on dragging the boy to the city when he graduated high school. To celebrate, of course. The teenager wasn’t against the idea, in all honesty. Sure, he had been to dozens of places with the Autobots, but actually exploring another culture would be fun. Jack never expected to be exploring _this_. He hadn’t even been to the Eiffel Tower yet.

Yet here he was, _miles_ underneath the surface, searching for a lost alien frequency in the darkest corner of Paris. Full of not hundreds, not thousands, but _millions_ of the deceased. Discarded and forgotten. It was irony at its finest, that the City of Love was built on top of a city of the dead.

A shrill ring came from the device. Only when Jack glanced up, he was met with a solid wall. At first, he squinted in confusion, then he realized.

“It’s on the other side,” the boy gasped.

“Want me to make a new door?” Arcee suggested, shifting a servo into a blaster.

“That didn’t work so well the last time.”

The catacombs were once stone mines, after centuries of digging, pressure, and age, Jack did not want to test their stability. Especially since he had already been in one cave-in. The boy peered through the darkness, trying to find a solution that didn’t involve backtracking in a labyrinth of bones. Then he saw it.

A black crevice, high up on the wall. Leading to the other side. It was as wide as Jack was, and no larger. Just enough for the lean teenager to squeeze through, but not Arcee.

“Give me a boost,” said Jack.

The Autobot offered a servo that the army brat stepped into while he planted a hand on her shoulder. She gently raised him up into the air, using her other servo on his hip to keep him steady. Jack placed his feet into the crevice first, wiggling his body through the narrow gap. The boy felt empty air underneath his feet, and the room beyond was too dark to determine its contents. He sucked a breath through his teeth, and fell.

By some miracle, Jack didn’t break any legs. He felt his stomach leap to his throat, but it was brief. His feet landed square on the ground and he caught himself on all fours. The army brat raised the light of his phone to observe his surroundings, only to freeze.

The floor was stripped bare, only made up of cold, hard stone. Instead of the same material making up the walls, they were rugged and uneven, asymmetrical. Almost… _organic_.

Bones.

They completely filled the walls on either side of him, and this time it wasn’t just a femur. Humeri, ribs, pelvises… the list was truly endless. They were all pressed against each other, not leaving a single crack of space. But instead of forming together to create complete skeletons, the bones were spread out, placed in methodical design. Like some grotesque piece of art. Skulls interrupted the patterns, with black, empty sockets peering  at the trespasser from all angles, the souls glaring at the one that had disturbed their slumber.

Jack shuddered. He tried not to think about who had taken the time to put them there, and he _definitely_ tired not to think about _where_ they had gotten so many “donations.”

Every hair stood on end, and he almost obeyed the command that filled his entire being to turn around and run. Then he saw it. A raised slab of stone, a few inches above the ground. On it was a large urn, almost as tall as he and a little wider. It was a pale color, perhaps a pristine white color in its day, but now had a yellow tint of age. Splashes of dull green and blue went around the shell in curved designs. In the gloom of the room, it took several long moments for him to recognize the material making up the container. _Metal_.

Jack took several cautious steps forward, and sure enough, the rapid beeping of the monitor turned into a shrill scream. He turned it off and stuck it in his pocket, stepping onto the altar. Only as he eyed the gigantic urn, he noticed something else.

The lid of the urn was set haphazardly across the opening at the top, leaving it ajar. Scratches lay across the edges, but Jack couldn’t tell from what. With a quizzical quirk of his eyebrow, the boy slid the top away. It was heavier than he thought, hitting the floor with a metallic thunk. Only when it did, apprehension crept up the boy’s chest.

Considering where he was, he had no idea what exactly was inside the urn. It was definitely Cybertronian, but it was far too small to be a sarcophagus. Unless it was a midget. Or what if there was no Autobot at all? What if _more_ human remains lay within, or some demonic curse that would force Jack to live his worst nightmares?

The teenager swallowed as he balanced on the tips of his toes and peered inside. No empty eyes looked back at him, but it was still a particular sight. It was a broad, circular disk. Unlike its container, it was untouched by the elements, still having a silver sheen underneath the pale light of his phone. The metal was curved into a sharp, wicked design, almost ominous.

“Arcee! I found something!” Jack called, reaching into the urn.

The boy had to extend his arms all the way just to get a grip on the strange object. It was heavier than the lid, and he wheezed, summoning all the strength of his arms to pull it out of its confines.

“Hmm?” came his partner’s curious hum, muffled by the stone wall, even as a pair of blue optics peered through the crevice. Only for there to be a sharp intake. “Jack! Put that down!”

The human immediately release his hold, having the disk slam onto the floor. “What? What is it?”

“That’s the spark extractor!”

“Uh, that doesn’t sound good.”

“It releases a concentrated electric pulse that assaults and overloads a Cybertronian’s systems, forcing the spark to shut down— _permanently._ ”

That _really_ didn’t sound good. But how—

“How did something like this get onto Earth?” Jack questioned, staring at the deadly weapon all the while trying to keep his distance.

“I don’t know. It was lost on Cybertron eons ago. I thought it was destroyed.”

Yet somehow it was in the deepest depths of the Paris catacombs, placed on its own little alter guarded by glaring skulls, sealed in a Cybertronian pod. _Wait._ Jack eyed the discarded lid. Loose, marred, _pried off_. No doubt triggering a distress beacon by the protective shell, to summon those to take it out of the wrong hands.

But the spark extractor was untouched.

Left inside, deceptively inviting, deceptively _easy_.

“We need to get out of here,” Jack declared, heart jumping to his throat. “This whole thing is a set-up.”

He whirled around to face Arcee, but instead something else caught his eye. The boy froze, his blood turning into ice. There was a gap in the skulls he didn’t notice before, out of his sight. It was just wide enough to create another tunnel, with a yawning, black abyss. Interrupted by two, glaring optics.

He saw a solid figure shift in the darkness, drawing nearer. Jack found himself staring at the deadly gaze, but his brain found himself translating the shape as it moved closer and closer. Dark, almost black, bluish metal, rippling across a fluid, graceful frame. Claws scraped across the stone, and fangs glinted in the darkness. A narrow snout emerged, followed by a long, lithe body, ending in a sharp, wicked tail.

Jack recognized the Decepticon almost instantly. A deadly, efficient predator, thirsty for his blood.

Ravage.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I hoped that cliffhanger will keep you guys around, because next week I will not be able to update. I started this fanfiction on a roll, but then summer classes caught up to me, and well, life is kicking my ass. Rest assured, this story is by no means going on hiatus, and will continue once I get my life together. See you guys then!


	5. Battle of the Catacombs

Ravage took a step forward. Then another, and another. Jack took a step back.

“N-nice, kitty…” he cooed in a nervous, shaky voice.

Though small by Cybertronian standards, the Decepticon was as tall as him and twice as bulky. Fueled by devastating strength and speed, the cyber-cat could bat him around like a chew toy. The human had only seen Ravage in action once, when Arcee battled the mech-animal in China as the Decepticons attempted to kidnap him.

Arcee managed to hold her own, but the Autobot warned that Ravage was the oldest of Soundwave’s symbiotes. It was only natural to conclude that he was the most experienced, and thus the most powerful.

But instead of focusing on the defenseless human, Ravage’s snout was cocked towards the spark extractor left on the floor. The cassette hissed. Probably against his better judgement, Jack took the spark extractor, lifting it off the ground with a groan. The action seemed to agitate Ravage, the Decepticon taking a hostile step forward with a deep growl.

The human and the Cybertronian stared at each other for a moment more. Haunches raised. Jack bolted.

“Arcee!” he wailed as he dashed for the crevice, but horribly weighed down by the heavy relic in his arms.

In an unnatural speed, Ravage closed the distance between them in a blink of an eye. Jack’s wail turned into a scream as fangs snatched the edge of his jeans and a vicious jerk dragged him to the ground.

“Ah! Let go of me!” the teenager seethed, sending a heel into the Decepticon’s helm.

The cassette yowled in pain, flinching back as the sensitive lenses of his optic were struck. It gave Jack a chance to crawl a couple more feet until there was another growl. Ravage lunged.

The boy braced to feel razor-sharp claws to dig into his skin, but it never happened. Suddenly there was a high-pitched sound of superheated energon flying through the air, followed by another pained scream. Accompanied with a clang as Ravage slammed into the pod.

“Jack, move!” Arcee barked.

The boy did not have to be told twice. He raced forward, clambering up the wall with frantic speed. He slid the spark extractor through the crack first, which Arcee all but yanked out of his grip. He followed through, just as he heard furious hisses. Jack had to use all his upper body strength to pull himself up, until servos clasped his shoulders. And fangs snatched his ankle.

Jack let out a yelp as his was pulled in opposite directions, delicate muscles stretching uncomfortably. The teenager kicked the symbiote with his free leg, trying to free himself. Ravage was more determined than the first time, holding on like a stubborn dog, denta burrowing into his skin. Finally the boy struck his optics one too many times, the same time Arcee gave a particularly hard pull. Jack’s stomach lurched as he was yanked through the crevice in a dizzying movement. Thankfully he was caught by strong arms and gently set on the ground.

Only when his feet touched the cold stone, he hissed as pinpricks of pain shot up his leg. His jeans were effectively ruined—the hem was torn to shreds, the edges stained from crimson blood. In a panic, the boy check the damage, only to find stinging cuts across his ankle. But not deep.

He jumped when suddenly a long, furious screech sounded from the other side of the wall. Then it reverberated with a metallic thud, dusts and bits of debris falling to the floor.

“That wall won’t hold him for long,” Arcee mused.

Jack opened his mouth to reply, only to be cut off by muffled, high-pitched blasts of energon. The wall shuddered as dark webs of cracks formed. Not long at all.

“Time to go,” the boy swallowed.

The Autobot promptly transformed, and the charge scampered on, tucking the spark extractor underneath his arm. Throwing away all caution from before, the motorcycle sped into the dark tunnels. Her headlights were the only thing lighting the dark corridors, but Arcee seemed to have memorized the catacombs already, backtracking their route. Pale stone walls and grey remains raced by in a dizzying blur.

“Ratchet, we need a groundbridge,” Arcee called over the comms. “ _Now_.”

There was no reply. Only empty, buzzing static.

The Autobot cursed, “Scrap.”

“We must be too far underground,” Jack realized.

They had to get to the surface. Before Ravage found them first.

He was only reminded of the threat as a caterwaul echoed through the catacombs. The Decepticon had broken free, and the predator was now pursuing his prey.

“Must go faster, must go faster,” Jack whined, looking over his shoulder, expecting to see burning red optics glaring back at him.

They didn’t appear, nor in the next several tunnels. Arcee turned into a broad, never-ending room, interrupted by broad, corroded pillars. The motorcycle weaved between them easily. Maybe they lost—

The army brat flinched violently as a high-pitched, unnatural scream sounded in his ears. Claws appeared from the darkness. A rival frame slammed into Arcee’s side, but the two-wheeler had learned from the previous experience from earlier that day. There was the sound of transformation and the saddle underneath Jack vanished, replaced by protective arms.

Arcee skidded across the ground, digging her heels into the stone until she came to a jarring halt. Blue optics flared, glaring at their attacker. Sure enough, the pair was greeted with Ravage, raised tail flicking in the air.

Jack’s stomach knotted. The symbiote must have mapped out the catacombs before they did, using an adjacent tunnel to cut them off. But it still unsettled him, just how _fast_ the Decepticon closed the distance between them. No wonder Soundwave sent his pet to spring the trap.

“You can take him, right?” Jack asked as he stepped behind Arcee, hiding in the shadow of his guardian.

Ravage growled and there was the sound of shifting gears. Without warning, a cannon ejected on each of the cyber-cat’s side. A line of razor-sharp spikes erected from his back, from the back of his helm to the tip of his tail. The end of which split into three different blades. Jack gulped. If Ravage looked dangerous before, he was menacing now.

“I can only hold him off for so long,” Arcee replied grimly, her own arm-blades ejecting.

In a movement too quick to follow, the Decepticon pivoted, cannons coming to life. Rapid fire energon flew through that air, illuminating the darkness with blood-red light. Rather than avoid the hailstorm, Arcee stepped in front of her charge. Clamping down armor to close weak gaps of plating, she curled in a little ball and crossed her blades over her face.

“Get to cover!” she yelled over the ammunition assaulting her.

The army brat did not have to be told twice. He ducked behind the closest pillar, holding the wide, deadly disc to his chest. He dared to look out around the corner, to see the Autobot backing up from the onslaught, as the Decepticon confidently stepped forward. It wasn’t long before Arcee’s wings scraped against another solid wall.

Every instinct in Jack’s body screamed to run and help. Last time he had stood on the sidelines, people had gotten killed. A rational part of him realized it would do no good. The Cybertronian’s brutal strength didn’t shatter his bones to pieces, if the superhot energon didn’t vaporize him. Just when the teen feared for his friend, he watched as Arcee raised an arm. It shifted into a blaster, firing back at her assaulter.

There was a surprised squawk as the bolts struck Ravage’s side, forcing the Decepticon to cut off his attack and lunge back. The Autobot bravely straightened and stepped forward, twin blasters raised. It was then the Cybertronians sized each other up. They circled each other like pit bulls in a fighting ring, glaring at each other, watching each other’s moves. It was Arcee that broke the stalemate.

She opened fire on the little Decepticon, once again filling the catacombs with light. Ravage was a blur of movement, leaping from one side of the room to the other, constantly bouncing on his pedes, returning fire when he saw an opportunity.

It was only seconds before Jack felt the beginnings of a headache at the flashing, color-changing lights, and his ears rung with the metallic and hissing sounds. He gritted his teeth, feeling his hairs stand on end between the raging energy fields and the adrenaline that filled his veins. Jack remembered the last time he was in this position, helpless, as Arcee protected him from angry Megatron. As the mine came down on top of them.

Eventually the cassette dashed out of sight, but the teen caught a glimpse of a whip-like tail.

“He’s behind the pillar!” he warned.

At the shout, Arcee promptly fired off a couple warning shots, to which Ravage replied with a volley of energon himself. The Autobot dove behind the closest cover, smoking barrels raised towards the ceiling. Jack watched through the gloom as the female ex-vented heated air.

In a flash of cobalt armor, Arcee leaped from her hiding spot, closing the distance between her and the cornered Decepticon in an impossible speed. Jack had a poor angle, but he heard Ravage’s surprised screech as the two-wheeler landed a powerful kick to his jaw. The attack was forceful enough to send the symbiote through the air, but he quickly corrected himself.

Ravage used the momentum to launch himself high up onto a pillar, using his claws to attach to the hard stone. He looked over his shoulder with a hiss, looking like a demented squirrel. Before Arcee could react, the Decepticon vaulted towards the Autobot, slamming into her. Jack cringed at the crunch of plating, followed by metal-on-metal screeching and furious shrieks.

The Cybertronians became a metal ball of fangs and claws and blades. They wrestled each other across the length of the room, trying to kill and not be killed. Jack’s heart jumped to his throat as the violent fight came to a jarring halt, Ravage’s claws digging into Arcee’s chestplate, pinning her down. Before the human could work up a concerned yell, the two-wheeler slashed her blade across her assaulter’s armor.

“Jack, run!” she ordered. “Get the spark extractor out of here!”

Not waiting for a reply, she raised her knees to her chest and sent her heels into Ravage’s belly. The Decepticon was sent back, but he nimbly landed on his pedes and lunged back at the recovering Autobot. The match continued.

Despite the urgency in Arcee’s voice, Jack found himself planted, watching the fight like it was a train wreck. He knew he would just get killed if he interfered, but he did not want to flee while his partner fought for her life. Not when they were finally together again. He felt _useless_.

But if the spark extractor got in the Decepticons’ clutches, the damage they would cause would be catastrophic. Maybe even turn the tide of the war. Jack’s heart twisted. The poison in his blood was pulled towards _him_. At the same time, the army brat couldn’t see anyone else die. Especially those he loved.

_The pain of losing a loved one. That is what you fear._

Oh, how Jack wished he wasn’t right. Shutting his eyes tight and gritting his teeth, the army brat summoned the will to move. He raced into the bowels of the catacombs. 

* * *

Jack ran clumsily with the spark extractor in his grip, and he had to readjust his hold several times. It wasn’t long at all before soreness radiated from his arms, followed by a quiver he couldn’t stop. The stinging pain in his leg that turned into a persistent ache didn’t help. He had almost tripped several times.

The ear-splitting sounds of battle faded away, replaced by the sounds of his shoes against the ground and his desperate panting. Along with an occasional crunch of something he did not want to think about.

The army brat didn’t know how long he ran. Seconds, minutes, hours. He didn’t pay attention which direction he took. Jack ran down the first tunnel that crossed his vision, the blackness and stone mixing together in a disorienting blur.

It wasn’t until his arms trembled with exhaustion, his legs pulsed with pain, and his lungs burned that the army brat finally slowed to a stop. He gasped desperately for air, only to receive a mouthful of stale debris. The teenager slumped against the wall, sliding down to the floor. He forcefully pried his fingers of the spark extractor, glancing down at his reddish hands. Jack sighed tiredly, and it was then he realized how _quiet_ it was.

The silence pressed against his ears like a deafening pressure, making him swallow uncomfortably. Where was Arcee? Ravage? How deep was he in the catacombs? Jack had heard stories, of people that went exploring in the never-ending tunnels, only to be trapped in the labyrinth of bones. What if he couldn’t find the exit? What if _he_ was never found?

Jack shuddered at the thought. No. He couldn’t give up. Arcee wouldn’t. He had to find a way out, with or without his partner. He had to complete the mission. That’s what Dad would have said.

With a grunt of effort, the teenager forced himself to his feet. Ignoring his protesting muscles, Jack took the spark extractor in his arms. He continued his subterranean journey, once again using his phone light as his only guide. Just like—

No, it wasn’t the same. Megatron wasn’t down here. At least he hoped. But there were Decepticons, and he had no idea where they were. And he didn’t know how to escape.

 _Calm down, Jack_ , he told himself, forcing himself to practice breathing exercises. _You’ve been through this before, and you made it through. This time, you have an idea_.

Paris catacombs were mines, then a burial place for the dead. They built shafts, all around the city, in case of cave-ins.

There was another way out of here. He just had to find it. So, Jack trekked on. Again, it felt like hours must have passed, but his phone told it was only a matter of minutes. There was no sign of Arcee, or Ravage, or any Decepticon or Autobot. No sign of escape.

Jack felt his heart sinking, and almost fell into despair, when he felt it. He froze.

It was so subtle, he thought he imagined it. But no, it was _there_. A shift in the air, rolling across his face like a breath of _wind._ His heart quickened.

A draft. A draft meant air. Air meant—

Freedom.

Jack forced himself to focus for a minute. If he could figure out the direction where it could be coming from, he could find— _there_.

Without a moment’s hesitation, the army brat continued his journey, but his steps were quicker, filled with renewed energy. He traveled _up_ the tunnel, and sure enough, the draft became stronger and stronger. He moved faster and faster.

He would make it, he would make it. Jack would found the source of the frequency, survive the Decepticon’s trap, and secure the relic. Arcee would be proud of him. Megatron would likely be mad, but the human would take pleasure, knowing he outsmarted the warlord. He wouldn’t be _useless_. He could—

Red optics blinked at him.

Jack froze.

Another blink.

For a paranoid moment, the teenager thought Ravage had found him, or even Megatron. But the gaze was too small to be the cyber-cat, and not menacing enough to be the tyrant. With a gulp, he angled his phone.

He was greeted with bluish-purple metal, interrupted by silver and yellow plating. Tiny claws and fangs flashed in the artificial light. A thin, metallic membrane made up spread wings, just broad enough to block the corridor. Jack first registered the shape as Laserbeak, but he realized he was wrong.

Laserbeak did not hang upside down.

A little snout was angled in his direction, lower jaw on the top and upper jaw on the bottom. Inverted audial fins twitched. Jack quickly decided it was another one of Soundwave’s minions, judging not only by the small size, but how _silent_ the thing was. The army brat didn’t even detect it until it revealed its presence to him.

When he saw its critical gaze lock onto the spark extractor, he possessively wrapped his arms around it. Then it spoke.

“Ratbat. Take relic,” the symbiote announced, in a raspy, hiss-like voice.

“Jack. Not give relic,” the teenager mocked.

Ratbat hissed. Jack found while Soundwave kept his vow of silence, his cassettes either were as silent as he, using actions rather than words, or required no filter, like a _certain_ chatterbox. The bat-like Decepticon seemed to be in the middle, speaking in fragments rather than full sentences.

“Take relic,” Ratbat repeated.

“I’m not letting you have it.”

“Ratbat. _Take_.”

With that declaration, the symbiote flung himself at the human. Jack raised the extractor as a makeshift shield but the Decepticon was stronger than he looked. The boy was knocked to the ground, hard, but he held onto the device. He instinctively flailed his legs, but this time his kicks did not have any success.

Ratbat easily fluttered out of the way, attaching himself to the wall, using the claws on the tips of his wings and the talons on his feet. He let out a series of robotic clicks that almost sounded like bat-like chirps, but if he was speaking, Jack didn’t understand a word. But instead of trying to figure it out, the boy scrambled to his feet and sped forward. Ratbat knocked him back down.

His phone knocked away, he felt rather than saw tiny claws trying to scramble for purchase on the spark extractor to force it from his grip. Jack protested by rolling on his belly, the weapon tucked underneath him. The symbiote squealed in anger.

It was then Jack heard a noise.

Metal on stone, turning of gears, plating rattling. The boy practically cried in joy, rising into a crouch.

“Arcee!”

Jack realized his mistake too late. Instead of glowing blue optics, he was greeted with red ones. The army brat reeled back, just as Ravage slowed to a halt.

The cyber-cat was covered in scrapes and scratches, energon leaking from severed fuel lines, but other than that, the Decepticon seemed unharmed. What about Arcee? Where was she? Oh, no, she couldn’t be—

His thought was cut off by Ravage’s demanding growl. He glared pointedly at the spark extractor. Gritting his teeth, Jack whirled around. Only to be greeted by Ratbat.

It was then the human realized he was pinned between the two Decepticons. Every time he tried to barge past Ratbat, the flyer spread his wings or slashed his talons at him. Ravage wouldn’t let him by, either, jumping back and forth, weaving like a snake. Their growls and chirps almost sounded like chuckles, as they watched their prey try to escape them. It was Ravage that finally grew bored.

The symbiote stepped forward, and again. Jack stepped back until he felt Ratbat swiping his talons at him. With a yelp, he moved back forward, right into the cyber-cat. The Decepticon lunged, jaws wide to snatch the spark extractor from the human’s grip.

“Another step and I activate it!” Jack yelled suddenly, raising the deadly weapon high.

The Decepticons froze.

It seemed not even the sadistic cassettes were willing to challenge the bluff. When Jack pushed it in his direction, Ravage even backpedaled with a whine. Ratbat squealed when the spark extractor was waved in his direction. At first, the boy was confused why the Decepticons were so afraid of the device they were so desperate to claim.

Then he realized they must have known what it was. On Earth, the most brutal death was a human’s still-beating heart being ripped out of their body. It must have been the same on Cybertron.

“You don’t like this, do you?” Jack challenged, once again holding it out between him and his harassers. The Decepticons’ _flinches_ told all. The boy swallowed, when he had an idea. A bad one, but couldn’t stop himself from saying, “Then let me go, and I promise this will never be used on you.”

Ravage cocked his helm. Ratbat chirped.

Then Jack felt cold.

He felt it brush against his thoughts. The tingling numbness spread throughout his body, like someone had pressed against a piece of ice against the back of his neck.

Ravage and Ratbat seemed oblivious, as both kept staring warily at him. Not attacking, not aggressive. They wouldn’t hurt him. They merely wanted the spark extractor, and they would leave. To make sure it could never be used against them.

Jack blinked. He pushed the intrusive thoughts away.

“Get out of my head, Megatron,” he muttered under his breath.

He assumed too quickly. Typical human.

Jack flinched. _What the—_

The cold disappeared when a purr of an engine filled the tunnel. Ravage stiffened and Ratbat squawked. The army brat whirled around, just in time to see a pair of bright headlights, almost blinding. Only to disappear when the motorcycle transformed.

Like Ravage, Arcee was covered in scrapes and energon, but she had a few more dents. Including one on her helm from a vicious strike of a tail. Her optics were dim, but despite the head injury, the Autobot leaped into the air. In the limited space, she struck the ceiling, but launched off it to double her momentum.

Arcee slammed her heel on the top of Ravage’s snout, clamping it shut and sending the symbiote to the ground. In the same instant, the guardian activated her cannon, aiming it at the panicking Ratbat. The flyer tried to avoid the volley of energon with dizzying aerobatics, until a precise bolt sent that bat-bot to the ground.

“That’s my girl,” Jack laughed, amused how easily his partner avenged herself.

Arcee didn’t reply as she scooped up her charge and transformed, tearing down the catacombs again, leaving their attackers behind. It wasn’t long before Arcee suddenly tilted up, along with the familiar jarring motions of a staircase.

Jack held on tight, especially when the motorcycle reached a landing that curled around to the next flight. Without slowing down, she pivoted on her front wheel and sped up the second flight of staircases. Just when the boy thought his teeth would crack, the trembling stopped. Only to turn into a loud slam as Arcee busted through a door left ajar.

Jack was assaulted by light. And a terrified scream.

The army brat was greeted with wide-eyed priests in elegant robes, but before he could reply, the two-wheeler whipped away again. They were still in a confined space, but the dim light was replaced by brilliant illumination and the stone was replaced by marble and gothic design. The boy realized with a wince that they had entered a church.

And sure enough, Arcee pulled into a broad room with a ceiling high above Jack’s head. The floor was filled with rows and rows of pews, but thankfully they were empty. If they drove in during a sermon, that would have been _really_ awkward.

There were more yelps as a group of nuns walked into the main entrance, only to be greeted by a speeding motorcycle. The lithe Autobot was able to avoid the flailing mass and barged through the broad doors.

Jack gave a great gasp as he was greeted with fresh, bright, glorious air. He was assaulted by a dizzying mix of colors and sounds, but he didn’t care. He was _outside._

Arcee drove away from the cathedral, most likely wanting to avoid a confrontation with an angry priest. However, she paused a few blocks away, allowing her charge to collapse against her dash.

“I am _never_ coming to Paris again,” Jack declared.

“Your mother will be disappointed,” Arcee quipped.

The boy opened his mouth to reply, but then the roof moved.

The boy did a double take. After the gloom of the catacombs, he wouldn’t be surprised his eyes were playing tricks on him. Only when he craned his neck up, the spire of the building looming over them shifted. Then straightened.

Revealing a tall, slim, lithe figure, cobalt armor glinting in the sunlight. A black, menacing visor glared down at the unsuspecting pair. Jack’s heart stopped.

Soundwave.

The Autobot was the only one in the street at the perfect angle to see the Decepticon, who was tucked between the jagged roofs, form crouched low. His dark color scheme blended into the cool shades of the gothic building almost perfectly. Jack did not dare to move or breathe, and Arcee was just as still. Soundwave resumed his statue-like pose.

They regarded each other, for a long, agonizing moment. The army brat felt his heart beating faster and faster with each moment. What was Soundwave doing here? It wasn’t like him to near humans, or engage in the enemy in the first place. As Megatron’s surveillance chief, the third-in-command spent most of his time monitoring operations from the _Nemesis._

Usually he sent his cassettes in his stead. Then Jack realized. The _cassettes._

The Decepticon was possessive over his pets, and being separated from them for so long must have made even Soundwave anxious. The fact he was hiding out of sight rather than engaging told the spymaster had come to monitor the situation, and ensure the completion of the mission. And the safety of his little ones.

Jack was torn from his thoughts by a chirp, and glanced up to see the fluttering form of Ratbat, free from the catacombs. He happily flapped circles around Soundwave, while another shadow scampered onto the roof. Hindered by his injuries, Ravage was not as graceful as before, kicking off a loose piece onto the street below, but he stayed low and out of sight. Then the army brat watched with fascination as the symbiotes changed shape when they lunged towards their master.

Ravage latched onto Soundwave’s back as a bulky piece of armor. Ratbat attached to his stomach, right underneath a particular chest plate—Laserbeak. Despite being reunited with his cassettes, the surveillance chief seemed impassive as ever, merely glancing over his shoulder at the peering human and the Autobot.

Jack shuddered. An Autobot, that betrayed him, and wouldn’t hesitate to do so again. Just like they betrayed Soundwave. Leaving him to rust in Polyhex, when he already proved his worth as its Champion.

The blood in the human’s veins froze. It was then he became aware of the cold poking at his thoughts. Twisting them.

_No way--_

_You will learn in time there is nothing that is impossible for a Cybertronian._

Jack almost screamed. Instead, he was frozen by the frigidness that had encased his mind. Created by another’s thoughts. Soundwave.

Soundwave was a telepath.

A chill went down the boy’s spine. He could enjoy his little victory. In the end, it would be the Decepticons that would win the war.

The cold presence retreated once again, leaving Jack gasping and shivering, despite the warm sun. He barely registered a groundbridge yawning open beside the glaring Decepticon. Without a sound, Soundwave stalked through, vanishing from sight. The portal snapped close. 

* * *

Knock Out just made things too _easy_. Like Bumblebee predicted, the Decepticon raced after the Autobot to avenge his ruined finish. He was certainly faster than the scout anticipated, and it wasn’t as easy as he first thought. But at least Jack and Arcee were in the clear.

Thanks to his hobby of street racing, Knock Out was easily able to weave between the slow-moving vehicles and cut the sharpest of corners. However, Bumblebee quickly realized the Decepticon never experienced rush hour in a major city. The Aston Martin was swallowed up by the congestion, filling Bumblebee’s comms with vicious threats and curses.

That should take care of it. Sideswipe had harassed Breakdown enough to force the Jeep into retreat, while Arcee called in, reporting that she and Jack were entering the catacombs. There had been radio silence ever since. Bumblebee could only hope his friends were alright, but told himself that he had no reason to worry.

Arcee could handle herself, and Jack was a resourceful human. They seemed to find trouble wherever they went, but they seemed to be able to always get out of it. Bumblebee wished he was that lucky.

Ancient buildings towered over him, and the alien couldn’t help but admire them. The human architecture was nothing like on Cybertron, which was full of great, flawless towers, stretching so tall they scraped across the sky—

There was a screech of tires as a human vehicle skidded to a sudden halt. Automatically Bumblebee’s frame locked up. That sounded like—

_Shells of superheated energon rained down from the sky. The balls of fire tore holes in towers, collapsed bridges, destroyed facilities, slaughtered Autobots and Decepticons alike. They were not discriminatory._

_Bumblebee was not able to escape the blast range in time._

_Sharp, deadly, evil claws found his throat. Vermillion, blood-thirsty optics glared into his cerulean, fearful but defiant ones. As if trying to look into his soul. As if trying to find his secrets._

_No, he couldn’t tell. He couldn’t, he couldn’t, he couldn’t—_

A piercing ring cut off the memory purge. Bumblebee returned to the present with a jolt, spark pulsing rapidly. He forced himself to slow to a stop a red light, despite every protocol in his body was demanding for him to make a break for it. The Autobot forced heated air to expel from his vents.

It was just a corrupted memory file. He was safe. _He_ could never hurt him again.

Another ring. Bumblebee activated cooling protocols and addressed the alert. He almost blared his horn in excitement.

The frequency!

He found it! It was only a couple blocks away. He could retrieve the relic, and Optimus would be proud of him. He could prove he wasn’t just some youngling. That he wasn’t useless.

He was greeted with a wide plot of land, full of gravel and dirt. Odd-looking human machines filled the lot, along with the metal skeletons of buildings. A construction site. The Camaro pulled through the open gate, slowly and cautiously. He kept his sensors on the highest setting, vigilant for any threats.

Although he couldn’t detect any ‘Cons, that didn’t mean there wasn’t one hiding somewhere. However, only the inviting, easy signal greeted him. Bumblebee traced it to the center of the abandoned site, devoid of cars and humans. Seeing the coast was clear and preferring to stay on his guard, the scout transformed into his bipedal mode.

It certainly wasn’t what he was expecting. It was an odd little device. It didn’t look like anything Bumblebee had seen on Cybertron. In fact, it almost looked—

The device let out a shrill scream. The scout flinched, servos flying to his audios. He instinctively reared back.

Bumblebee was not able to escape the blast range in time.

A shockwave of electricity assaulted the scout, invading his systems. It _stung_ , white-hot pain coursing through his neural net, spreading to his spark. A shut down sequence started without his permission.

The world went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I was thinking about having all the cassettes in a hectic battle, but realized introducing Ratbat was more fun. He’s a mix of his G1 and TFA continuities. His design is based on Animated, while his color scheme is from G1. Meanwhile Ravage is a mix of his G1 and Bayverse designs.


	6. Stolen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So a lot of borrowed quotes in this chapter, but this is probably the only chapter heavily based on the show. Hope it doesn’t make it boring.

The groundbridge snapped close as Jack and Arcee rolled into the main hanger of Diego Garcia. Only to be greeted by Lennox, arms crossed over his chest and lips pulled in a frown.

“I thought we agreed that you would evac if there was any trouble,” the lieutenant colonel scolded, his tone sounding like an annoyed parent.

“Everything was fine,” Jack replied hastily. Aside from the half a dozen panic attacks, of course.

“Yeah, I got fifteen car accidents that say otherwise.”

Oops.

“Uh, we secured the package,” Jack tried.

He lifted the spark extractor from underneath his arm, showing it to the NEST commander. Lennox cocked a curious eyebrow, but before he could make a comment, another voice cut him off.

“ _Hello,_ beautiful, and what’s your name?” Simmons purred, materializing beside Jack, greedy hands already reaching out for the device.

“It’s called a spark extractor,” the teenager answered, pulling it out of the man’s reach.

The former Sector Seven operative’s mesmerized eyes were locked onto the weapon, like a kid walking by a candy store.

“Oh, that’s fancy,” the man crooned. “How do you use it?”

Arcee growled in warning.

“What? For research purposes! Do you imagine if the boys at Sector Seven had something like this?”

“Thank God they didn’t,” Lennox muttered, walking forward and gently taking it from Jack.

The tall and muscular ex-Ranger had a better time handling the broad weapon than the teenager did.

“Rather unassuming, isn’t it?” Lennox commented.

“Bear in mind that looks can be deceiving, commander,” Ratchet said as he came up from behind the man, gently plucking the device from his hold. While it took the humans two hands to carry it, it only took the Autobot a single servo. “For this device is a one of the most dangerous weapons in our history.”

“So when can I look at it?” Simmons piped.

The medic ignored him as he sauntered away, ignoring the man following on his heels. The other humans and Arcee trailed behind.

“So what’s it doing on Earth?” Lennox questioned.

“That, is the question,” Ratchet replied, settling by the computer station and setting the device underneath a scanner.

“Someone was trying to get to it,” Jack reported. “It was in a Cybertronian pod or something, but it was forced open.”

“’Cons?” Lennox guessed.

“It explains why they were waiting for us when we arrived,” Arcee answered.

“But if they found the spark extractor before us, why didn’t they take it when they had the chance?” Jack argued.

“They were likely using it as bait.”

Jack shook his head. “No, I don’t think so.”

Several gazes blinked at him.

“What do you mean by that?” Lennox asked.

The boy paused, trying to recall everything that happened in the catacombs. The darkness had gone by in a blur, and running for his life was even more so. However, his encounter with Ravage and Ratbat was clear. Both cassettes were _hesitant_ to near him, their optics never leaving the spark extractor. When Jack had threatened them with it, it sent the fearsome Decepticons reeling.

“It was like they were _scared_ of it,” the army brat observed. Then he realized something. “Ravage didn’t even approach me until I took it. I don’t think they even wanted a fight.”

Ratchet scoffed. “They are barbarians, _of course_ they wanted a fight. Why else would they engage you?”

“They just wanted the spark extractor.”

Jack’s tone was more defensive than he intended, and was surprised when the old Autobot blinked. However, Arcee was more curious, asking, “What makes you so sure about that?”

The teenager remembered the invasive thoughts that were not his. “I just… know.”

“So then do you know who _did_ pop it open?” Simmons inquired, arms crossed over his chest.

“It was probably cataphiles, people that explore the catacombs,” hypothesized Lennox.

“And they just left it there?”

“Cataphiles usually aren’t vandals. They probably didn’t want to mess with it.”

It was heavy, and Jack doubted a pawn shop would buy a spark extractor.

“Who would just leave behind a perfectly good piece of alien technology?” Simmons practically wailed, causing Lennox to shake his head.

“It explains why the beacon was triggered,” Arcee hummed.

“Then why were Knock Out and Breakdown there?” the teenager asked.

It was then heavy pedes neared, causing the floor to tremble slightly beneath their feet.

“It stands to reason the Decepticons intercepted the transmission,” Optimus hypothesized, “and Megatron sent his subordinates to retrieve the relic. It was likely he was unaware of the pod’s contents. We were fortunate, that such a deadly device did not fall into his servos.”

“Let me guess: it’s a Decepticon superweapon, isn’t it?”

“No.” Jack blinked at that, and only for his skin to crawl when the Prime explained, “In the early days of the War, Zeta Prime sanctioned the development of Class-A weapons to use against Decepticon insurgents.”

The army brat frowned at the name. “Oh, that aft.”

Ratchet stiffened, turning from his work to scold, “Zeta’s methods may not have been conventional, but he was still a Prime.”

 _A False Prime_ , Jack thought bitterly, but bit his tongue.

Zeta Prime was the head of the High Council before the Civil War, and acted as leader of the Autobots when fighting broke out across Cybertron. Instead of trying to settle tensions or negotiating, the mech escalated the war by vowing to eliminate his enemy. By any means necessary.

The images were still vivid in Jack’s mind, of the monster torturing, murdering, and desecrating Decepticons. The paranoid leader even turned his wrath on his own troops, when he began to fear of rebel sympathizers. Only to cut his own forces by half. He was a Guardian Knight, meant to safeguard his people, but he merely used his title to sate his own lust for power. He even managed to make Megatron look like the better option.

“Here,” Ratchet suddenly announced, having the group turn to the screen. It showed a diagram of the spark extractor, zoomed in on a portion of the device, stamped with the Autobot emblem. “The source of the ancient frequency we detected.”

“An Iacon homing beacon,” Optimus hummed.

“What’s an Autobot locator doing on _that_?” Arcee asked.

“The weapons were sealed within the vaults below Iacon, which was both a cultural center and a stronghold. The capital was raided when Autobot troops were at their nadar. In anticipation of being overrun by enemy forces, these weapons were jettisoned off-world to keep them far from Decepticon reach.”

“Clearly, the beacon was added as a safety measure should the weapons ever be found by an undesired party,” Ratchet observed.

“So… what do we do with it?” Jack asked, eying the evil device apprehensively.

In the corner of his eye, Lennox and Optimus exchange knowing glances.

“We have a bunker in the States, completely undetectable,” the lieutenant colonel reported. “We’ll transport it there.”

“You’re not even going to _try_ to study it?!” Simmons cried.

Before anyone could retort, there was a shout from the other side of the hanger.

“Lennox! Ratchet!” It was Epps, basically sprinting towards his commander. When the man turned to his friend, the Master Sergeant was already twisting around on his heels, despite the fact he was sweaty and panting. “We got a problem. Like, a Bumblebee-sized problem.”

Immediately Jack felt confusion and concern, and judging by the worried expressions of the others, they were in a similar state. Bumblebee? Had something happened? Was he injured? Chest knotting, the teenager trailed after the migrating group. Raf would have a meltdown if he knew his treasured partner was hurt, or worse.

Despite his old age, Ratchet was two paces ahead of everyone, even Optimus, quickly making his way to the group of huddled Autobots. In the center was Bumblebee, but Jack immediately could tell something was wrong.

The young Autobot’s armor was clamped down defensively and in pain, door-wings flat on his back to make himself as small as possible. His blue optics were oddly dim, and even with his mask, he looked confused and fearful as the ‘Bots surrounded him. Then Jack glanced at his torso. On the scout’s side, was a long cut across the gap of armor, blue energon leaking profusely from it. It must have been deep.

Bumblebee had both his servos over the wound, both trying to stop the flow and hide it from his comrades, who were peppering him with questions.

“What do you _mean_ you can’t transform?” Bulkhead exclaimed.

The humans froze. What.

The young scout looked pitiful. _“I_ can’t. _Th-the protocols are still there, but whenever I try to activate them—”_

There was an awful, grating noise, like gears grinding against each other. It sounded like a car with a failed engine. Jack watched with horrified fascination, as Bumblebee’s armor rattled, trying to shift into place, but did not move. Did not transform.

Ratchet wasted no time. “Get him to medbay, stat! All of you, out of here!”

At his waving servo, the curious and concerned Autobots reluctantly dispersed, while the medic practically dragged a shivering Bumblebee to a side room that acted as a makeshift medical bay. A few mechanics stepped forward, but Ratchet dismissed them as well, pushing Bumblebee onto a medical berth.

The medic immediately set to work, activating a nearby terminal and attaching monitors. Ratchet raised an arm, emanating a light that encased the injured scout.

“Wh-what’s wrong with Bumblebee?” Jack dared to ask.

“Likely his T-cog was damaged in combat,” the old Autobot replied, in the calculating, disconnected tone of a doctor.

“It that like a T-bone?” Simmons asked.

“Not exactly,” Arcee answered. “It’s the organ that allows us to scan vehicles and transform.”

Jack frowned. If it was Bumblebee’s T-cog, did that mean— Suddenly his thoughts were interrupted by horrified gasp.

“By the Allspark,” Ratchet exclaimed, his optics wide and bright, intake agape. He even took a stumbling step back, like he was going to keel over. “Bumblebee’s T-cog isn’t damaged, it’s _missing_!”

Jack didn’t think he heard the old Autobot right. _Missing_? H-how was that even _possible_?

The boy stood frozen with shock, the others mimicking him. Even Optimus’s narrow optics widened, his broad frame going unnaturally stiff. Bumblebee just stared up at his doctor with unveiled horror. The shivering increased.

 _“N-No, no, that can’t be right!”_ the young Autobot denied. _“Check again!”_

Instead of complying, Ratchet looked at the ghastly wound on Bumblebee’s side, already reaching for a welding tool. It wasn’t hard to put two and two together.

“It has been removed,” the medic stated grimly.

“H-How can that be?” Lennox was the one to ask, stepping forward. His strong, authoritative voice had broken in an uncertain stutter.

Jack felt bile rise up in his throat. Knocked unconscious and had his most valuable organ _ripped_ out of him. It was like tearing out someone’s kidney. The teenager couldn’t imagine something so cruel and disgusting. However, his mind was already clicking information into place.

“Knock Out was after him,” the army brat remembered. “You think he did this?”

 _“No! I lost Knock Out!”_ Bumblebee retorted, voice still high with panic. _“It was some weird device! It stunned me, and then—”_ There was a long buzz of distress that Jack could not understand. The teenager assumed not all sounds had to be actual words. _“Oh, it was a Decepticon trap! I fell for it!”_

“Why would the Decepticons steal a T-bone, I mean, uh, bolt? What was it again?” Simmons asked.

“T- _cog_ ,” Ratchet corrected. He sighed. “Megatron has been known to raise the undead, I suppose it is not unfathomable even he would stoop to this level. A twisted sense of revenge, most likely.”

Revenge? What did that mean?

 _“Scrap this!”_ Bumblebee cursed, whacking away the welding tool before the wound was even sealed closed. He forced himself into a sitting position. _“Megatron wants a piece of me? Let’s see how chatty he is without_ his _voice!”_

He moved to jumped off the berth, but he was stopped by a sturdy servo on his chest.

“Bumblebee, please, calm yourself,” Optimus hummed, gentling pushing him back down. “You are not presently equipped to handle this.”

 _“You don’t know what it’s like, Optimus!”_ Even Jack blinked at the sharp ring and blazing optics, surprised that the loyal Autobot would so blatantly snap at his Prime. _“To have a piece of your body ripped_ out of you _!”_

“I _do_ know what it’s like to lose a vital part of oneself. And, as a result, I know the value of putting one’s faith in the strength of those around you.”

Despite his subordinate’s frantic rage, Optimus spoke like a calm and wise sage. Bumblebee’s door-wings flattened again, helm bowed low like a hurt puppy. The Autobot leader gently but firmly took a hold of the young Autobot’s shoulder in comfort.

“Can’t you just make a new… cog-thing?” Simmons asked.

Only at his words, Bumblebee glanced down at the human like he had grown two heads.

_“Don’t you humans know anything?! You can’t just—”_

The string of clicks and beeps broke off in a wail, the scout burying his face in his servos before collapsing back on the medical berth.

“What? What’d I say?”

“A T-cog is a bio-mechanism, not a scrapyard find,” Ratchet explained in a scolding tone. “If it were that easy, don’t you think I would have replaced Bumblebee’s voice box by now?”

Being reminded of his crippled state seemed to stir the scout from his depressed stupor.

 _“I can’t speak, I can’t transform!”_ he ranted, servos curling into fists. _“I’m useless!”_

He slumped dejectedly, curling in on himself. Ratchet clasped a servo over his shoulder. It was a rare, oddly soft gesture for the grumpy, war-hardened medic.

“You are not useless, Bumblebee,” Optimus Prime retorted calmly. “We vow we will do everything in our power to make you whole again.”

“A’right, a’right,” Bulkhead spoke up from where he was watching the horrifying scene by the edge of the room. “I say none of us transform until Bumblebee gets his cog back.”

“Your spark’s in the right place, Bulkhead,” Arcee sighed, even as she shook her helm in defeat, “but I don’t think now is the time to be limiting ourselves.”

“Not with Megatron potentially seeking other doomsday devices,” Optimus spoke up.

The statement made Jack swallow nervously. There was no way of knowing how many deadly weapons—both Autobot and Decepticon—were sent off of Cybertron in the final days of the war. And aside from homing beacons that may or may not be detected, there was no way to track them all. How many more had been captured by Earth’s gravitational field? Jack did not doubt Megatron would pass up the opportunity to get his claws on weapons of mass destruction.

 _“I-I’m going for a walk,”_ Bumblebee suddenly spoke up, but even in that prosthesis, it sounded pitifully small and weak.

Despite he had just finished sealing the scout’s wound, Ratchet did not stop him. With a nod of approval and an order not to stray too far, the Autobot slowly and carefully rose to his pedes. An arm still around his violated abdomen, Bumblebee trudged out of the medical bay, looking small as possible.

“Taking ‘transform’ out of a Transformer? That’s just wrong,” Epps commented drily.

“Yeah, I guess nothing’s too low for Megatron,” Lennox muttered.

Jack’s stomach twisted. But Megatron was a Transformer himself. He was no ghoul, to rob the vital organ that made Cybertronians such a mighty and proud race.

Poor Bumblebee. First he lost his voice, something he could function without, but barely. And it was clear even to the human how sensitive the young Autobot was about it, and how frustrating it could be. Especially if he couldn’t replicate the sounds of his little friends, or if one of his comrades misunderstood his meaning because of his lack of inflection.

“What did happen to Bumblebee’s voice box?” Jack asked, though hesitantly.

“It was…” Ratchet trailed off, fingers pausing over the keys of the terminal, although all it showed was Bumblebee’s scan. Perhaps the doctor was trying to find the slightest flaw to prove that he was wrong.. “…Severely damaged in battle.”

“How?”

“How do you think? Tragically.” At the human’s quizzical glance, the medic told, “It happened at Tyger Pax. Our brave scout was captured by Megatron’s forces and interrogated. But he refused to provide intel, and paid a grave price for his courage.” Jack’s chest knotted, knowing what happened next, while Ratchet let out a heavy sigh. “Bumblebee was left for scrap. But Autobots troops found him and evacuated him to a triage facility, where a field medic was able to stabilize his condition.”

It took almost a full minute for Jack to process the tale, the only sound being the tapping of the keys.

“So… we owe Bumblebee’s life to that field medic,” the boy digested.

“That’s… one way of looking at it, I suppose,” Ratchet confessed, but his tone held no optimism. “Though, the medic… could have done better.”

Before Jack could reply, he heard sharp yells drifting from the main lobby of the hanger. He glanced over curiously, but before anyone could ask, a harsh, loud voice sounded.

“Where are they?! I want to talk to them!”

Lennox frowned and muttered, “ _Great_.”

He and Epps exchanged glances before they both turned around towards the entrance. Meanwhile, Arcee and Bulkhead stiffened and their optics locked on Jack. The boy gasped when in a blink of an eye, the metal giants had him squished between them, out of sight. The army brat quickly realized why, as he dared to look out from his guardian’s leg with a single eye.

He was greeted with a man in a flashy, perfect black suit, dark hair cut short to his scalp and wiry glasses balancing on his nose. Theodore Galloway. The Autobots’ government liaison.

The security advisor walked in a brisk, stomping pace, practically storming up to the metal beings that were almost ten times his size.

“You made a _mess_ in Paris,” Galloway accused,. The man seemed undeterred as he paused underneath the giant’s shadow. “Keep a low profile, that was our agreement. Instead I have fifteen car accidents, eight people in the hospital, and one man in critical condition!”

Jack winced. Did they really cause that much damage? Everything had gone by in a blur.

“Sir—” Lennox tried, even stepping forward, but Galloway cut him off.

“And let’s not get started on a little video that popped up on the Internet today. Showing two _robots_ , having all-out brawl in a little plaza by some poor woman’s pastry shop?” The man glared up at Optimus Prime, but the Autobot leader seemed unfazed. Galloway continued, emphasizing each syllable like he was reading to a child learning a new language, “Keep your lackeys in order. Is that really _so_ hard?”

The Prime was silent throughout the epic rant, waiting patiently for the man to finish. When it seemed he was done, the Guardian Knight spoke slowly and calmly, “Our forces were ambushed by Decepticon troops when arriving in the city. My subordinates reacted accordingly, but due to their pursuer’s aggression, I am afraid there were consequences.”

“That, or you _robots_ can’t keep up with human laws?”

Automatically Jack felt several of the Autobots bristle, including Arcee, whose leg he was clinging on to. He was well aware the sentient beings took offense to the term. Robots were created, used, and thrown away. Like tools. Cybertronians were no such thing.

Lennox dared to take another step forward, trying to defuse the situation before one of the metal warriors failed to reign in their anger. It turned into a mistake, as Galloway turned his wrath on the poor commander.

“And _you_. Your job is to keep this sort of stuff from happening!”

The lieutenant colonel _stuttered_ , freezing under the burning glare. Jack realized why. It was Lennox’s duty to ensure the Autobots were accompanied by NEST forces, and dismantling tense situations. However, anything the commander would admit would incriminate himself. Jack swallowed. Suddenly the image of Fowler flashed before his eyes, as the man was dragged away in handcuffs. No, not again.

“It was me!” the teenager announced loudly, stepping out of his hiding place.

“ _Jack_!” Arcee hissed, but the human ignored her.

He bravely walked forward, raising his head up high as he confessed, “I was the one that went with the Autobots to Paris. It was all my idea.”

He was stretching the truth a little, but sure enough, that was all Galloway needed. The security advisor stared at him, several expressions crossing his face in a matter of a couple seconds. Shock, confusion, then fury.

“Wait a second, you’re one of the kids,” the man recognized. “I thought I specifically had you banned from the base.”

Jack shrugged. “You didn’t ban me from Paris.”

He stood his ground as Galloway stormed over to him, already onto his next rage. “Oh, got a smart-ass over here, huh?” He stopped in front of the army brat, glaring down at the boy like he was an insignificant child. “That’s what’s wrong with kids these days. No _respect_.”

Jack had to bite his tongue from saying he knew much more about respect than the man did.

“And what is this, some sort of playdate with the robots?” the security advisor hissed accusingly, throwing his hands in the air. Before the teen could give another smart reply, the man rounded on Lennox once again. “Colonel Lennox, who gave this boy clearance to be here?”

“Uh, how about Optimus Prime?” Jack offered sarcastically. “When he touched down in my hometown and I had ‘Cons shooting at me? Or when I was kidna—”

A firm servo seized his shoulder, squeezing it in warning. Jack reluctantly clipped his mouth shut, biting his tongue, but could not hide the glare at the man before him. Galloway was completely ignoring him.

“We cannot entrust national security to _teenagers_ ,” the government liaison ranted. “I thought we had already gone over this.”

Jack saw Lennox defensively square his shoulders, as he fought the urge to roll his eyes. His jaw even clenched as he gritted his teeth to keep his silence. The teenager realized it must have hurt the NEST commander’s dignity to be scolded on his own base, in front of his own men. However, Galloway spoke on behalf of his Commander-in-Chief. Defying the security advisor would be defying the President of the United States. Finally Lennox was spared from further humiliation as Galloway turned his attention back to the army brat.

“I don’t _care_ who you are,” the man dismissed as he stepped closer to loom over the boy, even though there was only a couple inches between their heights. “If you breathe a word of what you see in here, you’ll do time for treason, do you understand me?”

Jack sucked in a breath, curling his hands into fist. He wasn’t going to be some toy soldier to stand at attention to the man that stole his friends. Glaring, the boy growled lowly, “I take my orders from the Autobots. I know them, I don’t know you.”

Galloway’s nostrils flared like a raging bull, obviously not to used to dealing with open defiance. It gave the teenager a twisted sense of pleasure. Megatron would be proud.

The government liaison glared back, hissing dangerously, “Oh, you _will_.” He glanced back at Lennox. “Colonel, escort this boy off of my island.”

“Yes, sir,” the lieutenant colonel replied through gritted teeth.

Epps and Simmons weren’t trying to hide their detest, the sergeant glaring at the man with his arms folded over his chest and the agent bristling defensively. Galloway didn’t even notice the at least a dozen glares, instead whirling on his heels and strutting out of the room. Likely to find another victim to chew out.

“I do not like that dude,” Epps grumbled under his breath.

“Orders are orders,” Lennox retorted, reluctantly adding, “No matters where they come from.” He turned to Ratchet. “Ratchet, open a groundbridge, please.”

Jack couldn’t help balling his hands into fists. “Just like that?”

The ex-Ranger frowned at him. “You knew you couldn’t stay here, Jack.” The boy clenched his jaw, but before he could say anything, the commander turned to Epps. “Rob, take him—”

“I’ll take him,” Arcee volunteered suddenly.

“Arcee—”

“I’ll drop him off by his house and leave. No one will see me. It will only be a few minutes.”

Lennox glanced in the direction Galloway stormed off in, as if expecting the man to reappear in another rage. When he didn’t, the commander let out a tired sigh.

“A _few_ ,” he relented, but his tone held no room for negotiation.

With that, Ratchet began to input coordinates into the computer. Jack just bit his lip, his day effectively soured. He was finally with his friends, his family, who he hadn’t seen in months. And now they were being taken away again. The servo on his shoulder squeezed, almost comfortingly. He glanced up to see Arcee, her cool blue optics looking down on him. She gave that rare, honest smile, the one that told him that everything would be okay.

Jack didn’t see how. His guardian promptly transformed, and the boy had to summon the will to move his feet. Lost in his self-pity, he barely noticed a young, somber private trudge up to Lennox. The commander cocked his head as his subordinate muttered in his ear. The army brat did not miss how the man’s muscles suddenly went unnaturally stiff.

Simmons saw, too, noticing the lieutenant colonel’s downcast expression.

“What? What happened?” the Sector Seven agent demanded.

Lennox only frowned and avoided looking at his comrade, or even at the brilliant groundbridge that yawned open. Jack settled in the saddle, Arcee’s engine purring, one eye glancing at the commander. He had to strain to hear the man’s words. He wished he didn’t.

“Torres didn’t make it.”

 

Jack’s heart was heavy as the groundbridge closed behind them. Arcee slowly pulled into a dirty alleyway between two buildings. The sky had darkened considerably as evening descended, with only a line of lingering purple on the horizon. It wasn’t too late, but thankfully late enough there weren’t that many people out. Most residents of Jasper retreated to their homes when night descended. The little desert town wasn’t exactly the entertainment capital of the world.

Still, Arcee stuck to the speed limit as she turned onto the street, which was a first for her. Jack didn’t pay attention, instead playing the day’s events over and over in his head. NEST, Paris, the catacombs, the cassettes and Soundwave, Bumblebee, and Galloway. And the fallen soldier, Torres, killed by energon poisoning. Another father, brother, son, that wouldn’t be coming home.

It was hard to believe he had gone to one side of the planet to the other, and it all happened within twelve hours. The adrenaline had long left his veins, leaving the boy sore and exhausted and eager for the long day to be over with.

He didn’t even notice when Arcee pulled up to his home. The windows were still blacked out and the driveway was empty, telling that Mom wasn’t home yet. Probably working another late shift at the hospital. It seemed Jack had the house to himself. Again.

“I’m sorry,” his partner suddenly spoke up in an impossibly soft voice, interrupting his thoughts. Jack couldn’t remember the last time proud Autobot apologized. “I didn’t mean to decimate your birthday.”

“No, it’s… it’s fine,” the teenager brushed off lamely, not knowing what else to say. He knew Arcee had only meant good intentions, and it was not her fault things had turned out so horribly. It was a perfect end to a perfect day.

“I just assumed you would like a change of company.”

Jack’s heart twisted at the choice of words. He knew it was probably unwise, but couldn’t stop himself from blurting, “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“About what?”

“That I’m hanging out with Megatron.” The motorcycle went silent then, not even her engine humming. The human realized he had said the last thing she wanted to hear. When she didn’t reply, he added hesitantly, “...You’re mad at me, aren’t you?”

“No, Jack,” she refused quickly. “I’m not mad at you. I’m just…” She broke off with a static-filled sigh, and tried again. “I can’t blame you for making your own decisions.”

“But you’re my guardian—”

“And I failed to protect you.”

“No, you—”

Jack didn’t have a chance to retort, as the Autobot snapped, “Look at today. You were put in danger because of me. I couldn’t hold off Ravage and he almost got to you.”

The boy swallowed, remembering his close encounter with the deadly cassettes. But they didn’t hurt him…

“…It’s probably better this way.”

“Better?” Jack sputtered. “How is not seeing you _better_?”

“You were never supposed to know about us. When you learned about us, it was an _accident_.” The teen remembered that fateful day, when the motorcycle had crashed in him, so desperate to escape her pursuers, she didn’t even notice the unaware pedestrian. “I was the one that brought you into this war when it’s not even yours. If Galloway is right about anything, he’s right that you aren’t safe with us. The Decepticons changed the rules when they tore out Bumblebee’s T-cog today. I don’t know what they’ll do when you are put to into play, regardless of whatever is going on between you and Megatron.”

Jack’s stomach twisted, the scout’s ghastly wounded flashing before his eyes. Then a question.

“Ratchet said Megatron did it for revenge,” he recalled. “What did he mean by that?”

Another static-filled sigh. “I supposed you wouldn’t know about that. On Cybertron, facilities that were understaffed or experiencing… _problems,_ would remove the T-cogs of their workers.”

Jack wasn’t sure he heard her right. “You mean—”

“Yes. It was a common practice among the lower castes, especially miners, that worked in poor conditions and had more numbers than the guards could keep track of.”

The teen found bile rising to his throat. The vital essence of a Cybertronian ripped out of them, so they couldn’t scan, transform, or carry weapons. They could not flee or fight, or even defend themselves from their abusers.

“But that’s… like slavery.”

“…In a way.”

Then Jack registered a single word. “If they did it to miners… Do you mean… Megatron?”

“Yes,” the Autobot answered, but her tone was reluctant and tired.

“But he can transform! You said you can’t just replace a T-cog, so how can he do it if his was destroyed?”

“It’s possible to find a donor, but finding a compatible biomechanism is harder than it is on your world. But for Megatron, a… _scientist_ was able to get him a shiny brand new one. Obviously, the operation was a success.” When Jack did not know how to reply, Arcee continued, “The removal of T-cogs from the lower castes became one of the Decepticon’s main arguments—that it was cruel and unjust. It seems Megatron changed his mind.”

Jack swallowed, trying to digest the newfound information. Megatron had shown him that the Golden Age of Cybertron was not without its corruption and gruesome secrets, but he didn’t realize _how_ bad it really was. No wonder the Decepticon cause gained so many followers, but fueled by eons of resentment and oppression, it turned a revolution to a very violent and very nasty civil war.

“But if he protested it, why would he—”

“I don’t know. Maybe war changes a mech. Maybe you can ask him yourself.”

Jack flinched. “Arcee—”

“You should go, Jack,” his partner interrupted. “Our ‘few minutes’ is up.”

“When will I see you?” the boy couldn’t help but ask as he slowly, reluctantly, stepped onto the driveway.

Arcee was silent for a long time, then, “I think it’s best we don’t see each other again.”

“’Cee, please, don’t—”

“Goodbye, partner.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, yeah, almost forgot. Megs is in the next chapter.


	7. In the Arms of the Devil

Jack’s head was in a fog when he stepped into his home. By now his entire body was radiating with soreness, and his only thought was slipping into his warm, comfortable bed. And forget that this day ever happened.

The entire house was shrouded in darkness, the boy just barely making out the silhouettes of furniture. Not bothering with turning on the lights, he trudged to his room, head hanging low. His private sanctuary was as black and quiet as the rest of the house. The teen moved to flip the light switch, but a deep, gravelly voice greeted him.

“You were with the Autobots.”

Flinching slightly, the army brat turned to see blood-red optics staring at him. It was then his brain registered a large, dangerous silhouette, darker than the surrounding blackness. Even though, Jack clearly saw the curved, sharp silvery armor, curled talons, and bared, pointed denta. As always, his brain did a double take, expecting the form to be the size of a five-story building, but instead the shape was no more than seven feet tall.

It was Megatron.

The Decepticon leader’s presence in his room didn’t even surprise Jack. The warlord tended to appear whenever it suited him—and that usually was in the middle of the night. Part of the teenager wondered what was wrong with him, not to be startled by the evil tyrant in his home. Instead, he gave a grumpy sigh.

“Yeah,” the boy admitted, knowing he was as caught as red-handed as Ironhide found him. “I was with them.”

Jack didn’t see Megatron’s reaction in the darkness, but he felt that flicker of annoyance—and something else—through their blood-bond. Possessiveness? Jealousy?

“At their new base, I presume?” the warlord questioned.

“…Yes,” Jack answered carefully, his stomach twisting.

The boy prayed that the Decepticon leader wouldn’t make him give it up, and threaten his loved ones if he didn’t. He’d already been through enough for one day. His thoughts must have been louder than he meant them to be, because it was like Megatron read his mind.

“I will find their little ‘nest’ eventually,” the warlord promised, “and desecrate their base once again.”

Jack’s shoulders slumped. Part of him was relieved that the Autobots would live another day; part of him was terrified that the monster sounded so determined. The boy decided to leave the light switch alone—last thing he needed was a neighbor to happen to look in, only to see the menacing form of Megatron. Instead, he crossed over to the bed, still in jeans and a sweater.

“Whatever you say, Bu—Megatron,” the boy mumbled as he collapsed on top of the covers.

He was careful not to slip into the nicknames he and the ‘Bots called him in mockery. Jack had tried that only once, and was immediately disciplined with a swipe of claws, leaving bloody marks. When the boy complained, Megatron merely promised worse. The human charge wisely shut up after that.

The warlord stepped closer when Jack settled, allowing the boy to see his menacing shadow, arms tucked behind his back.

“Soundwave informs me you participated in today’s battle,” the sterling Decepticon said.

“By ‘participate’ you mean put on the sidelines and immediately reprimanded—yeah,” Jack answered.

“Is that so?” Megatron’s voice was full of condescending mockery, then continuing on in a snarl, “It seems clear to me the Autobots did not mind including you in their little trap.”

Jack blinked. “What do you mean?”

The Decepticon sneered, revealing more rows of deadly fangs. “ _ Please _ . How foolish do you think of me? An Autobot frequency located in the heart of a human city? And it was no coincidence that the spark extractor was the source of it.”

The tyrant’s hostile reply only made the human more confused. It took several long moments for it to click what the sterling Decepticon was insinuating. “But we found the pod already open. Ravage was there—”

“When Ravage arrived, he found the spark extractor in  _ your  _ clutches.”

Jack stared. Suddenly the day’s events flashed before his eyes again. Knock Out and Breakdown, confronting the Autobots, but refusing to engage. At the time, the boy thought the duo was trying to avoid unwanted attention, but it was more like the pair was toying with them, testing the waters.

Then in the catacombs, there was only Ravage and Ratbat, alone. The boy remembered how violently the cassettes had reacted to the deadly device in his hands. How desperate they were to claim it, how quickly they recoiled away from it. Then Soundwave, a watchful presence.

But it didn’t make any sense. Especially considering—

“But what you did to Bumblebee—”

It was Megatron’s turn to blink. “Hmm?” When the teenager just glared, the dictator blinked in realization. Followed by a dark chuckle. “Ah, they told you that much, did they? How I removed that scout’s voice box?”

It wasn’t the reply Jack was expecting. It took the boy a full five seconds to register the words. Then it clicked.

“It was  _ you _ ?” the teenager shouted.  “You took Bumblebee’s voice?” Megatron’s pointed look told all. “Do you have any idea what that did to him?!”

“Of course. He was given that annoying prosthesis, and has continued to prove himself a pest.”

Jack just stared and then asked lowly, “Why?”

“Because he proved he longer needed use of it,” Megatron shrugged. “If he would not speak to me, he would not speak at all.”

It was then the human was reminded what the being in his room really was. The Decepticon tyrant got what he wanted, one way or another. He would destroy anything and everything in his path, and not give it a second thought. Even if it included crippling a defenseless prisoner.

Megatron was a monster.

The thought made Jack grit his teeth in anger, spitting out before he could stop himself, “So then what’s stopping you from stealing a T-cog?”

The tyrant did not look impressed. “And  _ what, _ pray tell, would I possibly want with a T-cog?”

“Knock Out—”

“Already has a supply of emergency parts in storage, which are in no need of use as he has assured me that all of our troops are operational.”

“So did you tear it out just to keep the Autobots from using it?”

The accusation had an odd reaction. Silver armor flared, making the titan’s shrunken form almost look twice as large. It was a reflex Jack had only seen a few times in a Cybertronian. Usually in battle mode, plating would clamp down, to cover vulnerable gaps of armor. However, this was the opposite, metal fluffing out like the fur of an offended cat.

“As if I would need to turn to such a desperate and cowardly tactic,” Megatron growled dangerously. “If you would bother to learn more of our anatomy, little fool, you will know that the removal of a T-cog is a delicate procedure. One that cannot be performed on a battlefield. After all, if I am given the opportunity to steal one, why not steal a spark instead?”

Jack could not reply to that, knowing the cruel tyrant was right. Then he remembered what Arcee told him, what the caste system had done to the former miner. The boy was tempted to question Megatron, if it meant getting a confession. He stopped himself. Looking into the raging crimson optics, something hot and hostile bleeding through their blood-bond, the boy realized saying such aloud would be his death warrant.

His humble beginnings did not make Megatron any less egotistical. He was Champion of the Pits of Kaon and the Lord of the Decepticons. He would be nothing less. The tyrant would not tolerate the wounding of his pride, even from the being that shared the same blood.

But looking at the murderous form, Jack realized.

The silver demon had committed countless atrocities, bringing his own planet into war, leading it to its own destruction, along with entire solar systems. Who plotted to take the Earth, and crush the humans that lived upon it. He had already slaughtered hundreds. Including Jack’s father.

But the Decepticon warlord would not commit the one sin that had been done to him.

Megatron was telling the truth.

“Th-then how?” Jack gasped.

“How a Cybertronian vessel’s distress beacon was triggered?” Megatron echoed, his bristling plating slowly falling back into place. “Or how an unsuspecting Autobot was disabled and dissected, as a part of a  _ science experiment _ ?”

The Decepticon hissed the last two words, clearly showing his distaste. Likely reminded of his own experience, when he was held captive by human scientists. They had torn him apart, using stolen parts of his body to construct the technology that would make the modern day world. Just like—

Jack froze. Like Breakdown, strapped down and rendered defenseless, as he watched his own body being cannibalized. And could not fight back as his optic was ripped from its socket. Like Arcee. Ambushed, knocked out, while Jack was helpless. Helpless as  _ they  _ tried to drill into her spark.

“MECH…” he realized, saying it like a curse under his breath. “…They’re back, aren’t they?”

“I doubt they ever left.”

The teenager swallowed at the warlord’s cold tone. He supposed he wouldn’t know anything about the terrorist organization’s movements since the battle, cut off from the Autobots and any military operations. There was a part of him that convinced himself that Silas and his goons had  holed themselves up in some cave to lick their wounds, hiding from their humiliating defeat. That it would be a long time until Jack would have to hear from them again, if at all.

It wasn’t until now he realized he was wrong. MECH wasn’t hiding. They were plotting. And they planned to use Cybertronian technology to commit their revenge.

That still didn’t explain—

“But why now? What do they want with Bumblebee’s part?” Jack demanded.

Megatron made a harsh scoff that sounded like an irritated lion. “I doubt the primitive fools knew what they even took. Likely they merely wanted to take it as a toy.”

“They went through a lot of trouble to get it.”

“Hmm… If they are resourceful enough to snatch you from a guarded facility—” Jack couldn’t help but cringe at that. “—it is not unfathomable they would find a Cybertronian vessel. Likely they excavated for research, but when triggering its distress signal, they retreated.”

“Or used it as bait,” Jack hypothesized. “They even left the spark extractor so we would buy into it. Then they copied the frequency and added it to their stasis-inducing device.”

Megatron cocked an optic ridge, piecing it together himself. “Hmm, clever for cretins. You were fortunate, then, that you were not the one to fall for their little trap.”

“And Bumblebee?”

“He deserves what he received.”

“What about what happened to Breakdown?”

“Breakdown allowed himself to be captured by those smaller than him, weaker than him,” Megatron replied in a deep growl. “It was because of his own incompetence.”

The matter-of-fact tone made Jack sick to his stomach. He wanted to argue. After all, the proud warlord himself had being subjected to the same torture. Then the human realized.

Megatron’s own capture had nothing to do with it. The Decepticon leader had already been in stasis centuries before Captain Archibald Witwicky found him. He could not fight back, defend himself, resist against his captors. It wasn’t until his fellow Decepticons restored him to full consciousness that he finally was able to free himself.

However, if his soldiers fell in battle, it was because of their own undoing. It was proof they were too weak to serve him. Especially if they fell to such an “insignificant” race.

Jack swallowed. “Then what are we going to do?”

Megatron cocked his helm. “What, pray tell, would ‘we’ do?”

“Stop MECH.”

The warlord barked a laugh, even tilting his helm back. He acted like Jack had said a joke. “If what you tell me is the truth, today they have disabled one of my enemies. Why would I interfere with such results?”

“Because you were lured to that trap just as much as we were,” Jack pointed out. “That could have been one of your troops today. They’re not just after the Autobots, but the Decepticons, too.”

“I command an  _ army  _ from a mighty warship. The loss of a single asset is hardly a blow to the Decepticon cause.” Megatron narrowed his crimson optics and his armor fluffed out a little again. “This ‘MECH’ is no more than an insect. A persistent nuisance, but can be easily terminated.”

Jack frowned, the words turning in his head. Of course Megatron would never admit  _ humans  _ as a threat. It was true, they were significantly less technologically advanced than the ancient race. And that was besides the fact humans were  _ so  _ much smaller and frailer. But they made up for it in other ways. As MECH proved today.

Then realization washed over him.

“You said you wanted to conquer the Earth, right?” Jack already knew the answer, instead saying it in a challenging tone. “Well, the Autobots aren’t the only threat you have to face.” When the Decepticon just stared, the army brat elaborated, “MECH is stealing Cybertronian technology and it’s only a matter of time before they are going to use it against you.”

Megatron’s upper lip twitched at that, denta briefly flashing in the darkness. Regardless of his cynical nature, the dictator was still disgusted by the idea of another perverting what was his.

“If you don’t fight against them now, you’ll just have to fight them later. But if you put a stop to them, before they become more powerful, they won’t be a problem anymore. There’ll be no one to stop you from taking over the Earth.”

It was a dangerous bet, and just saying the words left a bitter taste in the army brat’s mouth. His father would roll in his grave, if he knew his son was suggesting the murder of human lives, just so the enemy could have the advantage. But Jack had seen what MECH was capable of.

They weren’t just interested in dissecting Cybertronians, but humans. Like they tried to do to him, if NEST hadn’t arrived in time. Silas had committed countless terrorists acts, and had almost killed not only Jack, but his friends and family. The ex-Navy SEAL wasn’t just obsessed with the alien technology, but vengeance against the system that murdered his brothers-in-arms and destroyed his life.

It wasn’t just about Autobots or Decepticons. Silas would have the power to destroy  _ millions  _ of lives. He would turn the world into chaos.

Jack did not dare to move or even breathe, eying Megatron as the warlord processed his argument. His inscrutable expression betrayed no emotion, as the dictator simply stared out the window, lost in thought. The metal being was just as still, almost appearing as a statue in the gloom. Finally the boy saw a tremor of movement, but it was so minute that he thought he imagined it.

Until the trembling of Megatron’s shoulders increased, accompanied by a low, raspy series of growls. Laughter. Finally he turned back to the human, crimson optics glowing and fangs flashing in a wide sneer.

“A human after my own spark,” the monster purred. “The Blood of Unicron suits you well.”

Jack swallowed, ignoring the comment. “Then you’ll send the Decepticons after MECH?”

Megatron was silent. Then, “No.”

“ _ No _ ?” the boy echoed, eyes going wide and his jaw dropping. “But you just said—”

“I admitted nothing. Engaging the humans would cost time and resources, allowing the Autobots to gain an advantage. Something, I  _ will not  _ allow.”

Jack blinked away his shock at the warlord’s blunt refusal, gritting his teeth in frustration. He knew Cybertronians were stubborn, which he had learned during his time with the Autobots. That was nothing. Megatron was on a whole other level.

“Prove to me that this ‘army’ is worth my attention,” the dictator growled lowly. “And then, I just  _ may  _ consider their desecration.”

“Don’t you remember the last time I faced off against MECH?”

“Oh, yes, when you slipped away from their clutches and almost bested their leader.” The Decepticon’s glare was accusing. “Only for you to hesitate.”

Jack just glared back. “I told you. I’m not a murderer.”

“And had it not been for your petty morals, we would not be having this conversation.”

The army brat couldn’t help it. He flinched. Still, he kept his voice strong as he argued, “And why me? You would have a better chance finding them. I can’t even talk to the Autobots right now.”

“Ah, yes.” There was the sound of heavy pedes and Jack looked up when claws gently touched his knee. “But you are not banned from your fellow humans?”

“Well, y-yeah, but—”

Jack didn’t understand what the warlord was getting at, but any protest on his tongue vanished when Megatron cupped his cheek. He tilted the boy’s head to meet his gaze.

“MECH is composed of  _ humans,  _ are they not? What’s stopping you from finding them yourself?”

“And what if I don’t?” Jack questioned, trying to summon the last of his courage, daring to glare at Megatron.

“Then they may slaughter an unpredictable number of innocents,” the sterling demon answered, all too casually, a cold claw stroking his cheek.

Just the very thought made Jack’s skin crawl. He knew Megatron could care less about collateral damage, but the same could not be said for the military brat, who was raised to always think for others. Maybe the Decepticon was merely telling him this because he knew Jack could not refuse. Maybe the warlord was right.

It was hard to think straight, with Megatron pressing against their blood-bond. The boy could  _ feel  _ the Decepticon leader’s will pushing against his.

“I-I don’t know how…” Jack still tried to protest, but it wasn’t as strong as he wanted.

“I have every confidence you will find a way,” Megatron purred.

The servo suddenly slid to his chest, and the teenager squeaked as his back was pushed into the mattress. He did not dare move as the massive frame of the Decepticon—who was still over a foot taller than him—loomed over him, the bed frame squeaking in protest at the  _ heavy  _ weight. Then Megatron was by his side, wrapping his arms around the human possessively. Jack did not resist as his body was pressed against the warlord’s broad, warm chest. Long, sharp claws brushed along his back, deceptively smooth and gentle. Even they could end his life in a heartbeat.

Jack knew he should care. It had only been a matter of  _ minutes  _ since he was with Arcee, with the Autobots. They were fighting to protect his world, and men were  _ dying _ . Yet here he was, listening to the sickening sparkbeat of Earth’s greatest enemy. The boy did not blame Arcee for being so disappointed in him. But he didn’t care.

Megatron was the only one that didn’t make him feel alone anymore. He was the only one that could make the pain go away.

There was a purr against his ear. “You must be thirsty, after such a productive day.”

“No,” Jack refused in a mumble.

“No?”

The boy could practically see the quirk of the Decepticon’s optic ridge. It was the same argument they always had. The same argument Jack always lost.

“I’m tired,” the human insisted, as if it wasn’t a lame excuse he hadn’t used before.

“It will make you feel better.”

Jack swallowed, trying to ignore the growing itch in his veins. He had enough—

His thoughts were interrupted by a shifting of plates. He jerked his head up, just in time for a pocket of space to open underneath Megatron’s hood. At least he actually thought ahead this time.

A dark canister appeared in the Decepticon’s servo. Jack would have dismissed it as innocent as any other container, if he did not hear the sickly slosh of the thick liquid within. Claws gripped his shoulder, easily turning him around and propping him up.

“Drink, my little one,” Megatron coaxed.

Jack lost.

The noxious taste of poison cloaked his tongue as the dark energon poured down his throat. It burned. It always burned, no matter how many times he drank the vile substance. But the boy didn’t even flinch. Not even when the dark energon churned in his stomach. He only focused on the warmth that spread through his limbs, replacing the horrible itch. The ache in his bones faded away. The cuts and scrapes across his body disappeared.

Jack wasn’t even aware he was trying to pull the canister from Megatron’s servo, tilting the bottom higher into the air. Guzzling down the Blood of the Chaos Bringer.

There was a chuckle in his ear. “So greedy.”

The human didn’t care.

Suddenly the exhaustion returned with a vengeance, washing over him like a tidal wave. Jack’s eyes fluttered. He felt something tangle in his hair, gently scratching his scalp.

“Go to sleep, my pet,” Megatron whispered, in a rare, soft tone.

Jack closed his eyes, and surrendered to sleep.

* * *

 

The next day was the Fourth of July. The scent of barbeques filled the air and people walked down the streets, some with sparklers in their hands. Bright and proud American flags were posted high all over the town, and handful of store owners decorated their shops with red, white, and blue. Later that night, some of the locals would go out in the desert, away from dry vegetation, and send off fireworks. Usually some other families would set up a picnic in the sands and watch.

Jack couldn’t get himself in the same jubilant mood as the rest of the people of his hometown. After the excitement from the previous day, the bustle of Jasper seemed uneventful. At least Miko and Raf weren’t in an excited mood, either. Both being born in other countries, they did not have the same sense of patriotism as most Americans. As Miko bluntly pointed out, “I’m not from here. Why should I care?”

However, the hot-heated girl could not resist a good explosion, even a harmless and colorful one. Or rather, she was still upset she missed last year’s excitement. When one of the tents selling fireworks out in the desert caught fire, and proceeded to send two hundred missiles in every direction. Although Jack insisted it was unlikely to ever happen again, she didn’t seem undeterred.

“Oh, come on!” the exchange student complained. “These are my last weeks in the States! I have to see  _ something _ cool!”

The army brat had used up his will to argue with Megatron, so he found himself agreeing to go. They decided to meet in the center of town, where they would take Miko’s host parent’s pick-up truck out into the desert. Jack arrived early, but he wasn’t too concerned. Raf always showed up on time. Miko was the one that was always late.

However, deciding he had time to kill, Jack locked up his bike to a post and wandered down the street. The thuds and pops of fireworks were already ringing in the distance, despite it wasn’t fully dark yet. The sidewalks were fuller more than usual, mostly people that decided to publicly display their patriotism.

Jack veered away from the celebration, deciding to loop around the block a couple times and be back in time for his friends’ arrival. The walk would help get rid of the restless energy in his limbs and give him time to think. It was especially helpful when the commotion faded away behind him.

The teen kept repeating the events over and over in his mind, and his conversation with Megatron. He knew what the Decepticon lord wanted him to do. Another impossible task.

One where the tyrant fully expected him to fail, and would hold no remorse when he did. Just like the warlord had allowed Jack to live down in the mines, only if the human managed to free the trapped titan. And when the dictator sent the human to infiltrate the Pentagon.

Now, he had to find MECH, and convince the warlord to divert his war from the Autobots, just to exterminate a pest. Jack didn’t even know where to begin. He needed to somehow to find the most wanted man in the world, yet vanished without a trace.

Jack heard a sound behind him, but didn’t give it any thought. Or the next, or the next, or the next. The army brat felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. It was light, soft thuds against the pavement, like footsteps. Jack glanced at the ground, but saw no shadow next to his. Likely just another citizen on the way to a party. The teenager rounded the corner, on the last leg of his walk, headed back to his original post.

The footsteps followed him.

It wasn’t right. There were no parties this way… The army brat kept his strides controlled and even, keeping his shoulders slumped. He was just paranoid. He was just edgy from everything. He would spend the night with his friends, have fun. Get his minds off things, and finally get some  _ peace _ .

Jack glanced down. A dark, looming shadow was next to his.

It was then that a deep, ancient instinct stirred, telling him the basic, animalistic of commands:  _ run _ . The teenager bolted. Only for an arm to wrap around his neck.

Jack choked as he was yanked backwards, his back pressed against a solid, warm body. Instantly he clawed at the foreign limb, trying to pry it off his trachea. He flailed his legs, but his heel couldn’t find their target. A leg wrapped around his.

“Hey, stop! I’m not going to hurt you!” a voice sounded in his ear, sounding far too fake for his liking.

Thinking quickly, Jack reared his head back, colliding with the back of his skull with the man’s chin. Pain exploded across his head and there was a grunt of pain, but the grip did not relent. Suddenly something soft and rough brushed against his nostrils and mouth. He smelled an odd, sweetly scent. The boy froze.

_ Don’t breathe, don’t breathe, don’t breathe. _

But it was hard to fight and hold his breath at the same time. His lungs quickly starting burning and his legs radiated with soreness. His head became lighter. Jack didn’t realize his struggles were going weaker, unable to keep his hold on the limb around his throat.

“It’s okay, Jack,” the voice murmured, saying his name like an old friend. “Sh… It’s okay… Just relax…”

Part of Jack wanted to believe him. It was getting harder to think. The world darkened. But he felt another part, screaming at him, telling him to get away. That this man was no friend.

His thoughts drifted. He remembered his father. Dad had a solution to everything. He taught all he could to his son, even dragging him out into the mountainous wilderness of Washington to teach him how to camp. How to survive. How to fight. He remembered, how his father reminded him it never hurt to be resourceful. And a mantra the Ranger repeated to his son whenever he could, both in seriousness and in jest.

Always carry a knife.

Jack’s hand wrapped around the cool metal of a switchblade in his pocket. And buried it in the man’s thigh.

Instantly a ragged scream was in his ear, making him wince. The cloth disappeared and the hold relented. With a desperate tug, Jack wrenched himself free, just to hear a furious snarl behind him.

“Why you little—”

The nice guy was gone. The army brat twisted and slashed his blade across his assaulter’s face. There was a second cry as a line of crimson sliced across his cheek.

Jack spun on his heels and took off down the street, running as fast as his legs would allow. It was only a few steps when he stumbled, the world panning. His head spun, feeling almost weightless. He forced himself to take another step. He hoped he could stagger faster than his attacker could limp.

The teen ducked down an alleyway. He summoned all of the will in his body, sending a single order throughout his limbs:  _ move _ . He focused, latching on any instinct to keep him going. He felt heat course through his veins, the world focused. It narrowed to a single point, like he was looking down at tunnel. Only for the tunnel to sway back and forth, his body listing this way and that. His heart hammered in his chest, his head was in a fog. Everything was a paradox.

Jack didn’t even remember collapsing in the alleyway. He only registered his back pressing against a solid wall and his legs sprawled against a cold ground. He didn’t hear anymore footsteps. He lost his attacker. For now.

The boy willed himself to stand. His body did not move. The world titled. Jack gritted his teeth. He had to get out of here. But he  _ couldn’t _ .

He hardly processed pulling out his phone and dialing a number. He had no idea what he even slurred. He only remembered fighting the sensations across his body, pulling in two different directions.

Move, sleep.

Fight, surrender.

Restless, sluggish.

Light, heavy.

Footsteps sounded beside him. Jack started and raised his switchblade, ready to slice the filthy vermin in half.

“Eep!” Miko squeaked, flinching back and raising her hands in defense. “Hey, I’m a friendly!”

The boy sighed and practically dropped his knife that he had clutched so desperately. “S-Sorry.”

“Jeez, what happened to you?!”

“S-S-someone tried to k-kidnap me.”

“ _ What _ ?” The girl moved forward, likely to help him, then she looked into his gaze. “ _ Whoa _ . What’s up with your eyes?”

“Huh?”

“You’ve  _ got  _ to see this.”

Miko pulled out her phone and Jack heard the click of a camera. She was wise enough to approach him carefully and slowly, keeping out of his personal space as she turned the phone around to let him see the screen. Curled against the wall, he looked as miserable as he felt, but the teen locked on the same anomaly as Miko had.

The iris around his pupils were a deep, tainted purple.

Jack swallowed. “We n-need to g-get out of here.”

Miko nodded and stuck her phone back in her pocket. She gently took the switchblade from his grip, snapping it closed and putting it away. Then she took a hold of his arm.

“On your feet, soldier,” the Japanese girl encouraged, pulling with all her might. Jack struggled to his feet, his knees buckling underneath him. The alleyway swayed. “Whoa.” Miko pulled him upright. “Over here, fella.”

The boy hardly realized his arm was around her shoulders, practically leaning his weight against the smaller girl as she guided him. Miko kept encouraging him, pausing whenever his head lolled. He barely detected a second presence, this one smaller and more frantic, chattering to Miko. A second pair of arms wrapped around him.

Jack next registered Miko’s truck, the girl and Raf practically shoving him in the seat. The world rumbled as an engine came to life. He heard voices, high and panicked and shrill, but he could not make out the words. He couldn’t make out anything.

He sunk into unconscious.


	8. For A Friend

Jack first felt a dull, pounding ache throughout his skull. The boy groaned, furrowing his eyebrows together. He heard a noise, but he could not decipher its meaning. He shifted, but his body was numb and sluggish. The teen felt warmth wrapped around him, his head pressed against plush. …A bed?

“Jack? You okay, buddy?”

A voice. The army brat blinked, only to see blurred shapes.

“M-Miko?” he slurred.

“Sh-should we call his mom?” came a timid voice. That was Raf.

“And say what? That we found her son passed out in an alleyway with purple eyes?”

“Well… yeah.”

“Don’t,” Jack mumbled. “I don’t want to worry her.”

He forced his eyes open and the world focused. At first he was disoriented, until he realized he was in his room, gently laid across the bed with a blanket thrown over him. Miko and Raf were stationed on the other side of the room, the younger boy sitting straight in his chair and the girl casually perched on the desk. Both wore conflicted, concerned looks, glancing between their friend and each other.

“How did I get here?” Jack asked, slowly rising into a sitting position. He winced as the movement triggered a fresh wave of pain through his skull.

“Raf and I brought you,” Miko answered. “Your mom’s not home yet, so you should be in the clear.”

When he glanced around, the army brat realized it was still dark out. His clock confirmed it was late. It must have been only a few hours, since… There was a throb behind his eyes as he remembered.

An assaulting arm around his throat, a false, soothing voice, and sickly sweet scent. Jack knew what it was. Chloroform. The man had tried to kidnap him. And then…

Had the dark energon allowed him to fight back? He couldn’t remember. He only recalled a blurry haze as he stumbled through Jasper. Miko was there, she found him...

“Jack,” Raf’s voice brought his attention back to his friends. “W-What happened?”

Jack sighed, “Some guy snuck up behind me with chloroform.”

“Why?” Miko asked.

“I don’t know, I didn’t ask.” Jack sighed, trying to pierce the fog in his mind to remember. “He… knew my name.”

“What?” gasped Raf.

“That’s  _ creepy _ ,” Miko agreed.

“So that does mean… it was targeted?”

“That means they could be after you right now!”

At her exclamation, Miko jumped from the desk and practically threw herself on the windowsill,  peering out as if expecting to see a shady figure standing outside his home.

“Don’t think so…” Jack mumbled. When his friends just gave him quizzical stares, he explained, “I kind of stabbed him…”

For a full second, neither replied, just staring at him with wide eyes. Miko was the one to break the silence.

“Woohoo! Nice going, Jackrabbit!” she cheered, pumping a fist in the air.

“It’s  _ not  _ an accomplishment,” the boy retorted.

“Sure it is!”

Jack rolled his eyes. Raf just looked at him with a frown.

“Do you know who would try to take you?” he asked.

“Human traffickers, low-life criminal, run-of-the-mill lunatic—take your pick,” Jack muttered, flipping the blanket off him. He swung his legs over the side so he could properly face his friends. “It’s not like there’s a list of people that are after m—”

The boy froze.

_ “If they are resourceful enough to take you from a guarded facility…” _

When they took him, to use as a ransom for what they wanted most. Only to learn he was far more than meets the eye.

“MECH…” Jack realized under his breath.

Again his friends just froze, before Raf gulped and Miko shook her head in confusion and disbelief.

“Wait, why would they be after you?” she demanded.

“They kidnapped me from NEST, remember?” the boy pointed out.

“It wouldn’t have anything to do with…” Miko paused, and pointed to her face. “You know…”

Jack realized what she was referring to. “They’re not still purple, are they?”

The exchange student squinted, analyzing, before deciding, “No.”

The army brat almost let out a sigh of relief. He wasn’t aware of the physical change until Megatron pointed it out to him. When Jack chose not to believe him, the titan pressed against their blood-bond and directed him to the closest mirror. His horrified scream woke up his mother on the other side of the house.

Then Jack remembered his friends weren’t the only ones to notice. But another, when he almost drove the sharpened stick into Silas’s heart.

“I… I don’t know,” the boy confessed in a sigh. Then knowing the question that was burning in the other teenagers’ minds, he added, “It’s because of the dark energon. It’s still in me.”

Immediately Raf and Miko’s body stiffened, and even from the other side of the room, Jack heard the breath hitching in their throats. 

“ _ What _ ?” Miko screeched. “But I thought docs at NEST purged it or whatever!”

Jack merely shook his head. “It’s  _ can’t  _ be removed. And as long as it’s in my veins, I’m bound to Megatron.”

He realized too late he didn’t mean to say that, but the fog in his mind made it hard to think clearly. He didn’t know exactly how chloroform worked, besides from the cliché horror movies and his mother’s medical expertise. But apparently it had lingering side-effects.

Thankfully, his friends did not comment on his slip. Maybe because they were well aware of the Decepticon leader’s obsession with the rare energon. Maybe because they knew that Megatron had poisoned Jack with the evil substance.

But the teen was spared from another confession, as Raf asked, “But… what does dark energon have to do with what happened tonight?”

The older boy just shook his head. “I don’t know how it works. S-sometimes, I can feel…  _ him,  _ but the rest of the time, it… just  _ reacts _ .”

Jack knew dark energon did not mix well with depressants. Last time he tampered with alcohol,  he beat Vince into a pulp. Apparently anesthetics had the same effect. Something told him Megatron would not use their blood-bond to meddle with human affairs. It weakened his resolve, allowing the bloodlust of the Decepticon tyrant to bleed through. Or maybe it was that same destructive nature that drove the Terrorcons. But Jack didn’t want to think about that.

“So… does it give you superpowers or something?” Miko asked, cocking her head curiously.

Jack didn’t have the courage to tell his friends the high state he would be in, as he pummeled his opponents with ease. He had beaten Vince. Lennox told him how he almost killed the NEST officials-- _ Arcee _ \--without a second thought. How he defeated Silas. And then tonight. He didn’t see it as some “superpower.” But something he had no control over, and one day he could hurt the people he loved. He already did.

“It… just puts me in a bad mood,” Jack grumbled.

“What would MECH want with something like that?” Raf asked.

“I don’t know.” The army brat shook his head. “I don’t even know what they want with Bumblebee’s T-cog!”

He didn’t mean to say that, either. Stupid chloroform. Jack winced as his classmates exploded at the same time.

“ _ What _ ?!” Miko screeched.

“Something happened to Bumblebee?!” Raf cried.

Jack leaned away as both began peppering him with rapid-fire, panic-filled questions. The military brat let it go on for thirty seconds before the headache grew too painful.

“Shut up!” he wailed.

Miko and Raf clipped their mouths shut, but still stared at him expectantly. The boy sighed, realizing the damage was done, and could not take back his comment. He wasn’t smart enough to come up with anything else, either. Megatron had done well to convince him he was a terrible liar.

With a heavy sigh, Jack told them.

Once again his ears were assaulted by Miko’s shrill, enraged screams. But it was not because of MECH’s gruesome crime. 

“You went to  _ Paris  _ with  _ Arcee _ ?!” the girl shrieked.

“Well, it wasn’t exactly  _ planned _ ,” Jack tried. “We were at the base—”

He realized too late he said the wrong thing.

“You went to the base  _ without me _ ?!”

Raf curled in a ball and Jack leaned away, raising his arms in defense should the raging girl attack him. Amber eyes blazing and balled fists at her sides, Miko looked ready to set off on him.

“It-it was a last minute decision. She visited to wish me happy birthday, then… one thing led to another and…”

“How does ‘happy birthday’ lead to going to see the ‘Bots?!” the exchange student demanded, waving her arms in the air. “How could you do this to me?”

“It was a one time thing, and it didn’t mean anything. I was thinking of you the whole time—”

The girl was completely ignoring the boy’s snark as she paced back and forth. “ _ Months _ ! It’s been months since I’ve even  _ talked  _ to Bulkhead! And  _ you  _ met up with him first! That’s so unfair!”

Jack sighed, willing patience. He was well aware once Miko got going, there was no chance of showing her logic. According to her, she was the only one suffering without her comrade.

“Yeah, well if you bother to remember, I haven’t seen Arcee, either,” Jack spat through gritted teeth. “How could I just walk away and wave it off?”

“How could you not even tell me about this?!”

“Because I knew you would react this way!”

“STOP IT!”

Both Jack and Miko froze, the boy becoming aware the pair had aggressively neared each other during the exchange. And their voices had gotten louder and louder with each sentence. Realizing his mistake, the army brat glanced over to see where Raf was sitting in the chair, only to see a shaking ball with ruffled red hair.

Jack immediately chastised himself. The youngest of the three was also the most sensitive. Raf had told his friends about his panic attacks, that seem to occur completely random. However, the older teens noticed they particularly happened whenever someone raised their voice too high.

“Raf, I’m sorry,” Jack hastily apologized, stepping away from Miko to turn his attention to the boy.

“Hey, it’s okay,” the exchange student assured in a soft voice, in sharp contrast of her previous shrill tone. When Raf didn’t reply, the girl dared to step beside him, wrapping a warm arm around his shoulders and comfortingly stroked his arm. “We didn’t mean to get upset.”

The Hispanic boy’s face remained buried in his arms, his knees to his chest. Jack sighed, knowing how long it took for the younger boy to calm down. Sometimes minutes, sometimes hours. He  _ knew  _ that, yet decided the best place to argue with a stubborn Miko was right in front of the poor boy. He exchanged glances with the girl, who looked just as guilty as he felt.

Just when Jack convinced himself it was going to be another bad attack, a muffle voice spoke, “D-did you see Bumblebee?”

The teenager’s stomach knotted and he swallowed the bile in his throat. He nodded, even though Raf couldn’t see him. “Yeah.”

Puffy, wet, red eyes looked up at him. “Is-is he okay?”

Jack really hoped Raf wouldn’t ask that. Eying the fine tremble in the Hispanic boy’s arms, he thought about how to answer him. Last thing he wanted was to worsen his friend’s condition. At the same time, Raf deserved to know what happened to his best friend. Reluctantly, he told is friends about the scout’s ghastly injury.

Like he feared, the trembling increased and tears ran down flushed cheeks. It was Miko that spoke.

“MECH chopped Bumblebee?” the Japanese girl gasped. She still clung onto Raf, who was on the verge of sobbing, even as she stared at the older teen with disbelief.

Jack nodded grimly. He caved and told them everything. His visit at NEST headquarters, but making sure to exclude the soldier’s demise and Ironhide’s accusation. He instead explained the signal they detected, that led them to the heart of Paris. How they thought it was a Decpeticon trap at first, but it revealed MECH had lured them there, even using ancient Cybertronian technology to do it. All so they could dissect an Autobot.

“B-but why Bumblebee?” Raf asked, his quivering voice small and frail.

“I don’t think they cared who they got, as long as their trap caught something,” Jack replied solemnly.

“How could they do that?!” Miko snapped, but this time, kept her heated voice at a measured volume. “What would they want with his… T-cog?”

Jack shook his head helplessly. “I don’t know. Maybe it was just a hit-and-run job.”

“S-so, Bumblebee can’t transform?” Raf asked, so soft and quiet the older boy hardly heard him.

“No.”

The youngest still desperately reached out for hope. “Ratchet can f-fix him, right?”

Jack’s own chest ached, knowing he was only hurting his friend. “No.” At his classmates’ horrified expressions, he explained, “Ratchet said each biomechanism is unique to every individual Cybertronian.”

The army brat stopped himself from saying more, knowing no more needed to be said. He would just be making things worse if he did.

A small, pitiful whimper escaped Raf’s lips. He folded in on himself, fingernails digging into the sleeve of his sweater. Jack instinctively moved to comfort the boy, even though there was nothing he could do. He paused when Raf spoke up again in the frail voice.

“I wish I could have been there,” the boy confessed. When Jack just stared in confusion, he added, “I-I could have stopped it, warned him.”

“There was nothing you could have done, Raf,” the eldest assured him quietly.

“Yeah,” Miko agreed. “And you could’ve gotten caught, too!”

For a long moment, Raf didn’t reply or move. Then he nodded, slowly, and buried his face in his knees again. The girl looked to Jack.

“So what are we gonna do?” she demanded.

“What?” the army brat blinked.

“We can’t just sit on the sidelines when the team is down a player! We have to help ‘Bee!”

Jack frowned. He couldn’t even convince Megatron to fight MECH, and he had no idea where to start searching for the hidden organization. Never mind fixing an Autobot without a T-cog, when he couldn’t even talk to them in the first place.

“And how are we going to do that?” Jack questioned.

“Well, you said Bumblebee could only transform with  _ his  _ T-cog,” Miko mused. “Then we find the T-cog!”

Jack just stared at her like she had grown a second head. “Find the giant alien organ stolen by trigger-happy  _ terrorists _ , that not even the FBI, CIA, NSA—the whole  _ alphabet— _ can track down?”

As if his errand wasn’t impossible enough. But to pinpoint the location of a single object, if it hadn’t already been torn apart? After all, Megatron had made it clear he couldn’t care less about the Autobot’s misfortune.

“It only took NEST a day to find them,” Miko replied, raising a finger.

“Because they had a prisoner to interrogate. How are  _ we  _ going to find them?”

Jack knew he wasn’t being fair, taking his frustration out on his friends, but the same questions had been stewing in his mind for almost twenty-four hours.

“Bumblebee got hit in Paris, right?” the girl questioned. “Then we start there.”

“MECH was already gone with the T-cog before ‘Bee even woke up,” Jack recalled. “They could be anywhere by now.”

“Not really. I mean, you can’t just stuff a giant alien part in the back of a van.”

“She’s right,” Raf sniffed, raising his head. His face was still red and wet, but he stopped quivering. “It’s hard to transport something that big and heavy, not to mention fragile. Plus Cybertronians, even their biomechanisms, release a radioactive signal that human devices can detect.”

“Then how did they get away so quickly?” Jack asked curiously.

“Well… they could have had a cell in the city. They could have been on standby until they were activated for the um, operation, and hid it somewhere until things cooled down.”

Jack pursed his lips in thought. It certainly made sense. It explained how MECH knew when and where to set the trap, without leaving behind a single trace. Along with the fact the Autobots were distracted by their longtime enemies, and then by their wounded comrade.

“So you think MECH could still be there?” the oldest teenager asked. 

“I-I’m not sure,” Raf confessed hesitantly. “But it’s worth a shot. Besides—” The pitiful shine in his eyes disappeared, replaced by a determined gleam. “Bumblebee is my friend. I want to do whatever I can to help him.”

Jack swallowed. Any one of the children knew what it felt like, when their guardian was injured. The boy knew, that even now, he would do the same for Arcee in a heartbeat. But there was one problem.

“I don’t think our parents are just going to let us just leave on a trip to the other side of the world,” he pointed out.

“Well, if they don’t  _ know _ ,” Miko thought mischievously.

“And how is that going to work?” Jack threw his hands up in the air. “It’s not like we just snap our fingers and—” The girl gave him a pointed look and the boy realized. “ _ Oh _ .”

“But we can’t contact the Autobots,” said Raf. “And groundbridge at the old base is down.”

“But it’s still there,” Miko clarified, in the same tone that Jack recognized that meant no good. At the boys’ questioning looks, she explained, “Maybe we can fix it up, and teleport ourselves to Paris.”

“I want you to think long and hard about what you just said,” Jack deadpanned, folding his arms over his chest in doubt.

“I just did.”

“Really?”

Before the pair could bicker further, Raf interjected, “Ratchet said he reverse-engineered human technology to construct the groundbridge. Maybe if I look at it, I can figure out how to repair it. I fixed my own computer, once.”

Jack didn’t have the heart to tell him that a mass produced laptop and a machine that tore holes in the space-time continuum were completely different things. The boy’s voice had grown stronger and his tears had dried, but instead it just made the older teen’s heart heavier.

The last time he involved his friends in a conspiracy, they had almost gotten all arrested. And the army brat had gotten kidnapped by Megatron. When they broke their promise to keep it secret.

Jack wasn’t planning on including them this time. He may had forgiven them, but he couldn’t bring himself to trust them. Especially when he knew their impossible plan was bordering on suicide.

“We find the T-cog, and then what?” the army brat questioned. He was pretty sure he couldn’t call Megatron for an air strike while dragging a Cybertronian biomechanism behind him with extremists shooting at him.

“We take it back to NEST,” Miko concluded. “And then they’ll see that we can help! We can be with the Autobots again!”

Jack cringed. “Miko… I don’t think it works that way…”

The Japanese girl narrowed her eyes at him. “ _ You  _ got to see Arcee, I haven’t seen my partner in  _ months _ .” It was then that the boy realized it wasn’t that same mischievous tone or rebellious gleam in her eye. It was something he had never seen before. “And I’ll do anything to see Bulkhead again.”

It was a blazing fire behind her amber eyes, fed by determination and desperation and hope, and there would be nothing that would quell it.

“Anything.”

* * *

 

Autobot Outpost Omega One had once been an nuclear missile silo, built in the middle of the Mojave Desert, miles from civilization from every direction. It was active during the Cold War, when the United States experimented with the powerful technology in case of the outbreak of another World War. However, when it assured that it was only mutual destruction, the base was left abandoned.

Its large size and isolation made it the perfect hiding place for the Autobots. The military had done its best to upgrade the fifty-year-old bunker, but could only do so much. However, Ratchet had gladly helped himself to repairing and redesigning almost the entire silo to fit the large beings’ needs. However, left unoccupied once again, the outpost fell into disrepair. It did not help that it had been left in shambles from when the Decepticons invaded.

Scratches, holes, and scorch marks covered the walls. Loose rafters hung from the ceiling, the screen of main terminals was shattered and dark, and one of the catwalks had even collapsed. Not even the central elevator shaft was left untouched, the inner workings left exposed and the lift hanging precariously from a single cable. A fine layer of dust and debris covered the floor, along the unnatural, discolored stains of dry energon.

Jack remembered the last time he was here, when he felt his world crash down around him. When he cried in Megatron’s arms like a babe, but the Decepticon did not let him go.

The base looked just like he left it. Except the grey husks of the drones were gone. Jack’s stomach knotted, knowing there was only one party that would bother collecting the wreckage. He doubted it was for a proper burial.

While the army brat had already seen the remains of the Autobot base, Raf and Miko were seeing it for the first time. Their eyes were wide with horror as they used their phones to illuminate the gloom.

“W-whoa…” Raf stuttered.

“This is crazy,” Miko gasped.

“Come on,” Jack ushered.

He moved towards the staircase that led to the second floor. It rattled underneath his movements, making the boy unconsciously grip the railings tightly, but he learned from last time it would hold. Miko quickly followed him, but Raf hesitated. After some coaxing from his older friends, the young boy cautiously followed them up the unstable staircase.

The second story looked as bad as the rest of the base. The little corner the kids had set up as a makeshift sanctuary was utterly destroyed. The television was gone, the game station lay in a pile of scrap metal, and the sofa was torn to shreds. Jack’s chest twisted, recalling the hours upon hours he and his friends spent in that little spot, conversing either with each other or their guardians or merely resting in each others’ presence.

But now those days were gone. Jack swallowed and forced himself to turn the other way. Upon closer inspection of the main console, the boy was greeted with black scorch marks and gaping holes. Laserbeak had really done his best, to ensure the Autobots would never use the groundbridge again.

“So… we’re going to fix… this?” Miko observed with her arms crossed over her chest. Apparently she had finally recognized the task that lay before them.

“Yep,” Jack confirmed in a flat tone.

Raf had already set to work, rushing forward and sitting on his knees. He was already pulling out his laptop, saying, “The groundbridge itself is functional. The fuel redundant loops and phase-lock compensators weren’t damaged, but the mainframe is completely fried.”

Jack and Miko just exchanged uncertain glances.

“Do you have any idea what he just said?” Miko was the one to ask, and her friend just shook his head. “Wait, how do  _ you  _ know this?”

“Ratchet showed me,” Raf replied.

Of course he did.

Instead of making another baffled comment, Jack pressed, “Can you fix it, little buddy?”

The genius was already scrutinizing the terminal, playing with the lifeless keys and pulling at blown wires.

“I don’t think I can…”

Miko moaned in dismay. “So we came all this way for  _ nothing _ ?”

“No.” Raf turned his attention back to his laptop. “The  _ controls  _ are down, but I can replace it with  _ my  _ computer.”

“You can do that?” Jack tilted his head.

“Before the only way to activate the groundbridge was through the terminal. I was able to sync my laptop with it, so… I kind of already know how it works. If I can instead upload a program into my computer to monitor the groundbridge—”

“We’re in business!” Miko finished with a cheer.

“How long will it take?” Jack asked.

Every minute they spent here, the greater chance MECH had at getting away. Stealing Bumblebee’s T-cog. And destroying more innocent lives.

“It depends,” Raf shrugged, already tapping away.

Jack decided not to push, knowing the genius was already at work. He and Miko had learned once Raf shut himself in his mind, there was no drawing him out until he found the solution to the problem at hand. They probably couldn’t drag him out of the base even if they tried.

It turned into a waiting game, then. Jack and Miko, neither being skilled technicians, stayed more in support more than anything. They only intervened if Raf asked for an extra hand, and ushered them away the moment their task was done. Not once did the boy even glance up from his computer, eyes set on his work and fingers flying across the keyboard. The rest of the time was spent with the pair of teenagers entertaining themselves.

Apparently the base still blocked a signal, preventing them from meddling with their phones. Instead, they found a soccer ball Jack had brought in one day, kicking it back and forth. They played tag, then hide and seek. Then Miko came up with an absurd game of the “floor is lava,” in which they had to cross from one side of the silo to the other without touching the stains of energon or a piece of debris. It was more challenging than Jack thought it would be.

Eventually he grew bored of the aimless activities and lounged on one of the cots, trying not to remember the last time he slept in one. He made sure to hide the dark, nearly black, purple stain on the floor. Miko went off to explore the ruined base again, either mapping out the maze of scrap or entertaining herself with another game. Jack closed his eyes and folded his arms over his chest, dozing. Only to jolt awake at a triumphant yell.

“I got it! I got it!” Raf cheered.

Blinking, Jack sluggishly rose into a sitting position. Only to be greeted with a powerful, high-pitched hum. The teen felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end as energy filled the air. Then there was a bright, warm flash of light.

“Woohoo! Way to go, Raf!” Miko exclaimed in victory, even jumping into the air with both fists raised.

The tunnel that held the groundbridge thrummed with power as the vortex of green, blue, and white shades filled it.

The genius only smiled shyly, but Jack could see the relief and pride in his eyes. The army brat quickly crossed over to the younger boy, Miko joining him.

“So what’s the plan?” the Japanese girl asked, practically bouncing on her heels.

“You and Raf stay here,” Jack ordered. “I’ll call you when I need a ‘bridge—”

“No way!” Miko refused, interrupting him. “We’re doing this together!”

The eldest teen just shook his head. “Miko, it’s way too dangerous. This isn’t like how it was before.”

“Sure it is—”

“No, it’s not. You aren’t going to watch a robot battle royale and expect Bulkhead to come save you. It’s just  _ us _ now. No Autobots, no back-up.” He watched Raf and Miko exchange glances, the weight of that statement sink in. “And these are  _ terrorists _ . If we get caught, we’re not going to get arrested. They’ll  _ kill  _ us, especially once we get—”

“We know that,” a voice spoke up. Jack blinked and glanced down, only to see Raf staring back up at him “And this isn’t just about us. One of our friends is hurt, and you’re right, MECH could hurt other people if we don’t do something. That’s why we  _ have  _ to do this. For Bumblebee.”

Jack just shook his head. It took him several seconds to force out, “So many people have gotten hurt because of me. If something happened to one of you guys—”

He trailed off, unable to finish the unthinkable sentence. His friends’ expressions softened at the torn look, to which Raf argued, “We’ll always have each other.” Then with a burning gaze, he added, “And there’s no going back this time.”

“What are friends for?” Miko added.

Jack swallowed. Every fiber in his being told him this was a horrible idea. So many things could go wrong. There was no guarantee that anything would go right. Once again he had made a deal with the devil, and once again he was dragging his best friends into it. But they were right.

This wasn’t just about them anymore.

It was for a friend.

Jack nodded. “Then let’s do this.”

His friends smiled, and Miko even pumped a fist in the air.

“Alright!” she cheered. “Operation: Bumblebee!”


	9. Operation: Bumblebee

Groundbridging to Paris was as disorientating as the first time. The bright light, the smells, tastes, and mixed together in an overwhelming amount of sensation assaulted the boy. Judging from the looks of his friends, they weren’t much better. However, Miko was the first to recover, disorientation being replaced by fascination.

“ _Wow_! I can’t believe I’m in Paris!” the Japanese girl exclaimed, even skipping forward a few steps, glancing back and forth. “Can you see the Eiffel Tower from here?”

“This isn’t a vacation, Miko,” Jack sighed.

The girl pouted, but quickly scampered back to the boys.

“I set a timer on the groundbridge before we left,” Raf announced. “A portal should appear here in four hours.”

“Isn’t that too long?” Miko asked, tilting her head.

“I’m wondering if it’s going to be enough,” Jack grumbled.

The eldest knew why the genius had done such a thing. The groundbridge could only be operated from the base, so usually Ratchet or another Autobot had to stay behind to monitor it. However, as all three were determined to go, Raf had come up with a compromise.

However, searching for an entire city, reclaiming a stolen object, and escaping it would be no easy task. Four hours may not be long enough, leaving the teens stranded in Paris. Or four hours may be too long, having them run in circles as angry extremists chased after them. However, any more time would be pressing their luck.

“So where do we start, then?” Miko asked.

Jack frowned. He had been dealing with vicious Decepticons while Bumblebee had been ambushed. He had no idea where it happened, and where MECH may have gone. Thankfully, Raf offered a solution as always.

“I can hack into the traffic cams,” the boy offered, as if was a simple task for him. “If we look over the footage, we can piece together what happened.”

It was a good idea as any. The three slipped out of their hiding place then. Raf took the lead, as he was the only one that actually knew what they were looking for. It took time to find an intersection with a camera, and one that wasn’t busy. Once they determined the coast was clear, Raf neared the pole and with the help of Jack’s pocket knife, popped the panel open.

It was then the Hispanic boy attached and adjusted wires, plugging a couple into his computer, as if he been hacking into security cameras all his life. However, the elder teens crowded around as the laptop came to life, with dark, moving images flashing across the screen.

“I’m in!” Raf cheered, already tapping away.

Jack didn’t hesitate, ordering, “Can you rewind it to a couple of days ago?”

The boy nodded, and the next few minutes were spent of the cars rapidly speeding backwards across the screen. Then Jack saw a flash of yellow.

“There!” he exclaimed, pointing. “That’s Bumblebee!”

A flash of red.

“And that’s Doc Knock,” Miko observed. “Whoa, who wrecked him?”

Raf switched to different camera angles, watching as the  Camaro sped away from the nearly-totaled Aston Martin. Eventually the chase ended when Bumblebee cut through an intersection, just before the light turned red and Knock Out was trapped in the resulting traffic. Jack instinctively leaned closer, watching as the scout navigated the next several streets without incident. Then—

“There’s the construction site,” he observed, stomach knotting.

“Okay, Bumblebee’s pulling in…”  Raf chimed, zooming in. “And… whoa!”

All three jumped as suddenly the screen turned into static.

“What happened?” Jack demanded.

“Lost the signal?” Miko guessed.

Raf adjusted his array of wires. “No, I don’t think so.”

Sure enough, the boy sped forward through the footage. There were several long, agonizing seconds of static before the picture returned, revealing a completely clear construction site.

“What just happened?” Miko squawked.

Raf tapped. “I think… the footage has been erased! It’s like this for just over an hour…”

“Just enough time for MECH to hit ‘Bee, clean up the mess, and take off,” Jack observed solemnly.

Great. The only chance of catching MECH in the act, or any sort of solid evidence, was wiped out of existence. Their only chance of having any idea where the extremists may have gone. Now they were back to square one. Then Jack had an idea.

“Go back before the feed cuts off,” he instructed. “When ‘Bee is pulling in.” Raf followed his instructions, once again filling the air with tense silence as he rewinded the footage until the bright Camaro came into view. “Stop!”

Raf paused the video. Jack leaned in as close as possible, squinting. He stared at the frozen frame, scrutinizing every detail, every pixel, trying to find the smallest of flaws. He noticed something.

“What’s that?” he asked, pointing.

Raf zoomed in. “Looks like a… van?”

“An armored truck,” Jack realized. “It slips into view the same time Bumblebee does.”

“So… MECH did stuff his T-cog in the back of a van?” Miko commented.

The truck was dark, cool, grey color, rather than the army green the paramilitary group preferred. Just the right color not to attract attention, blending into the flow of heavy traffic. The vehicle was large, and Bumblebee was on the smaller side when it came to the gigantic proportions of the Cybertronians. Maybe…

“Go back to the footage from the other cameras. Try to find it,” Jack ordered.

Raf did as he was told, flipping between windows, fast forwarding and rewinding footage, scrutinizing the streets of Paris from every angle. Jack’s stomach knotted every time the mysterious truck appeared across the screen, then again and again and again. Just like—

“It shows up on every street Bumblebee is on,” the army brat observed.

“ _Ew_!” Miko gasped with a shudder. “They were _stalking_ him?”

“Waiting for just the right time to hit him and run,” muttered Jack before giving another command. “Try looking after the footage is erased.”

Raf fast-forwarded, repeating the process. The speeding robots-in-disguise and the crashing vehicles were replaced by police and ambulances, rushing to the chaotic scene. While the armored truck continued a casual pace away from the excitement. Without further instruction, the genius followed the shadowy vehicle, until—

“It’s gone!” Miko gasped.

The truck had slowly turned around a corner, out of view. However, as Raf switched to the next camera, the vehicle was nowhere in sight. The boy looked just as confused as his friends, already tapping away and switching back and forth, trying to find out what he did wrong. Jack watched the entire time, until he noticed something else particular.

“It’s not just the truck,” he realized. “It’s all the cars. Look.” He pointed, following a sedan that made the same turn, only to vanish from existence as well. “They turn onto the street, but the camera doesn’t pick them up.”

“They go to another dimension?” Miko hypothesized.

“Or there’s a blind spot,” Raf suggested realistically.

“It’s on a loop,” said Jack. “Whatever’s on that street, they don’t want anyone to know about it.”

“Such as a bunch of terrorists hanging out with an alien part?” piped Miko.

Jack stared at the mysterious, armor truck, reeking of calculated, malicious intent. Possessively hoarding the treasure that lay within. His stomach knotted, when he finally realized what it truly was.

They had found MECH. 

* * *

“This is a bad idea…” Raf whined, the poor boy hunched and quivering.

“No one _asked_ you to come,” Miko pointed out, still moving at a fast, purposeful stride.

“We should really call someone…”

“Who? The Autobots blocked our calls, NEST has _horrible_ customer service, and we don’t know the number to the French police.”

“Doesn’t help we don’t speak French,” Jack muttered.

“Exactly!”

“B-But these are _bad guys_!” Raf protested. “We can’t just walk up and knock on the front door! This is a _really_ bad idea…”

Ironic thing was, Jack agreed with him, even though this was his plan to begin with. They found the street where the mysterious truck vanished, but until they found a sign that read among the lines of “MECH was here,” they had no solid evidence to present their case. To either Megatron or Optimus, not even the teenager knew. But he knew neither would come, or even answer, until they _proved_ MECH was really there.

Unfortunately, that meant the kids had to go investigate themselves. Miko was eager at the prospect. Raf was far more reluctant.

He lingered behind the group as the three traveled down the suspicious street. looked as unsuspecting as it did on the camera feed. It was next to the Seine River, the black water sloshing against the concrete barrier. Tall buildings formed a wall on one side of the narrow street. The architecture looked more modern than the other buildings Jack had seen. Most likely warehouses and other business facilities. Out of the way of the bustle of the inner city, completely innocent look, it was the perfect hiding place for a terrorist cell.

“This is the place alright,” Miko observed. “Just one problem—”

“How do we know which building MECH is in?” Raf asked.

Jack frowned. As the truck vanished when it turned on this street, they had no way of knowing where it went next. Even if they did find the vehicle, there was no way to determine who it belonged to. It would take forever to search the every single warehouse, and Jack doubted they could just knock on a door.

Then Jack considered. If he learned anything from the last time he had met them, MECH was paranoid. No doubt they were on edge after their theft, on guard for any signs of retribution. If they were hiding on this very street, then it was likely the children were already being watched. When meant all Jack had to do was get their attention.

Before he could change his mind, the army brat pried a loose brick from a nearby wall. He ignored his friends’ baffled looks, instead training his gaze on the nearest lamppost. Drawing a breath, Jack turned his body and cocked the rock behind his shoulder. Then he threw his weapon with all his might.

The fragile glass of the lamplight shattered, raining debris with a horrible noise. The teenager immediately spun on his heels, ignoring the others’ yelps and ushering them into a nearby alleyway, ducking out of sight.

Just as a door slammed open and a curse filled the air.

“The fuck was that?” a man demanded, even though he received no reply.

The teenagers froze, not daring to move or even breathe, as the stranger moved forward to the destroyed lamppost. Through the gloom, the boy eyed the man that wore a pair of jeans and a jacket—with a Kevlar vest over it. Then his blood turned to ice as his gaze locked on the pistol strapped to the man’s belt.

Never straying his gaze from the MECH agent, Jack reached out, fingers wrapping around a cold, metal pipe left abandoned in the alleyway. Ignoring the other two’s hisses, he crept forward, balancing on his haunches and staying low to the ground. The man shifted. Jack lunged.

There was a sharp sound of impact as the pipe collided with the stranger’s head, neck snapping at an odd angle. Jack felt a surge of satisfaction, that his desperate plan worked. Then a pit formed in his stomach when a murderous gaze glared back at him. Oh, scrap.

The army brat backpedaled, but he wasn’t fast enough. Despite blood trickling from his brow, no doubt suffering a concussion, the extremist tackled into Jack’s stomach. He wheezed as all the air was knocked out of him, the back of his head slamming into the concrete. Dazed, it took him several long moments to register large hands wrapping around his throat.

Jack’s lungs screamed for air, and his vision darkened. The teenager instinctively flailed, kicking his legs, but his assaulter was effectively straddling his waist, keeping him in place. He clawed at the man’s wrists, but the crushing grip did not relent. Stars danced across his vision as he watched those stone-cold eyes stare down at him, waiting to watch the life drain from his eyes—

Suddenly there was a _crack,_ the soldier letting out a gasp as his eyes bugged out of his skull. Then the grip loosened. Jack watched, frozen, as the man’s eyes rolled into the back of his head and then with a groan, he slumped on the other side of the boy. Revealing Miko standing over them, the pipe in hand.

“Hey, pipes, who knew?” the Japanese girl quipped, shrugging.

Jack gasped, falling limp against the ground. He heard frantic footsteps frantically approach him.

“Oh, my gosh! Jack, are you okay?” Raf gasped in a harsh whisper, staring down at the boy.

The wheezing teen forced himself to raise a thumb. “I’m good.”

“We need to get out of here!”

“Why? We just found our guys!” Miko protested.

“Jack almost got killed!”

“I got a pipe, though.”

“They have guns!”

“Shut up!” Jack snapped, forcing himself into a sitting position.

His head was pounding and his heart hammered in his chest. Maybe he was the one with the concussion. He looked at he unconscious man and dared to hold his breath, ignoring his burning lungs. No shouts, no gunshots. Apparently the soldier was the only one on duty.

“If this is the place, we have to check it out,” the army brat decided.

Raf looked horrified. “Jack, we need to contact NEST. Maybe Lennox—”

“Can’t help us,” the boy interrupted. With a grunt, he forced himself to his feet. “We came all this way. We knew it wasn’t going to be easy. There’s no going back now.”

The other teens replied with mixed expressions, but Jack ignored them as he scanned their surroundings. He noticed the door the MECH agent had burst open was still agape, unmoving and unguarded. Murmuring to his friends, the group cautiously approached it.

The boy paused, listening, for the echo of conversation, the shuffling of footsteps, and the clanking of equipment. But there was nothing. Cautiously, he pushed it open, just enough for a single eye to peer through.

He was only greeted with a blanket of darkness. He waited for a moment, allowing his eyes to adjust. Jack made out stacks and stacks of crates, haphazardly outlined against the blackness. The teen tried to scan the gigantic, spacious room, likely the main lobby of the warehouse. No tall, dark figures, no masked faces, no armed guards. There was _no one_.

Jack found himself opening the door wide, daring to take a bold step, only to be greeted eerie silence. It made his stomach knot and his hair stand on end. Did they enter the wrong building? No, that couldn’t be right. The bruises on Jack’s neck _proved_ they were in the right place. Then where was MECH?

The others trailed in after him, both glancing back and forth, only to be greeted by the same eerier darkness.

“There’s no one here!” Raf gasped, eyes wide with confusion. “Where are they?”

It was a good question. If the trail ended here, but MECH was nowhere to be seen… Miko was the first to voice his conclusion.

“Aww,” she wailed. “We missed the party?”

Jack would hardly describe a group of extremists plotting to steal alien technology a “party,” but he didn’t have the energy to correct Miko and bicker further.

“But if MECH left, why was that guard here?” Raf asked.

“He was probably left behind to cover their tracks,” Jack hypothesized.

Although the elder teen said it in a somber tone, the young boy deflated.

“Then… we’re too late?”

Jack’s stomach knotted. It couldn’t just end like this. They had come this far, they couldn’t just turn back around. There had to be _something_ here. If MECH left someone behind, to cover for them, it meant there was something to hide. A single flaw that could damn their entire organization. A _trail._

“Look around,” he decided. “Maybe we can find something that can tell us where they went.”

“Like _that_?” Miko said, pointing to the other side of the warehouse.

Both boys followed her finger, only to blink at the sight that greeted them. The armored truck sat cold and lifeless. Instead of looking as unsuspecting and plain as it did on the cameras, in the darkness of the warehouse, it looked dangerous and menacing.

“It’s worth a shot,” Jack declared, with a determined frown.

His friends needed no invitation, walking across the empty space towards the massive vehicle. As they neared it, they became more cautious and slow, muscles tensing. Jack felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. The boy didn’t know what he was bracing for. Either dozens of armed soldiers to pour out of the truck or for the vehicle to transform and start attack them.

But as Jack looked around, he saw no movement, no figures. He heard no sounds, no voices. The boy carefully pulled at the handles on the back of the truck. They were unlocked, but he had to use all the strength of his arms to pry the heavy, thick metal doors open.

It swung to the side, revealing a cold, steel cargo space. It was empty, save for a large crate sitting in the center. Squinting, the army brat clambered into the truck, his friends following on his heels. Jack was the first to cautiously approach the chest. He unlatched the locks and lifted the top, only for all three of them to gasp.

It was something Jack had never seen before. It looked like an oddly-shaped, makeshift sphere, misshapen by gears, loose wires, and bent metal. It had a silvery sheen, dull of any color, even as bright, glowing liquid leaked out of it. Energon. The army brat’s blood grew cold, once his brain processed what he was just looking at.

Bumblebee’s T-cog.

“Woohoo!” Miko cheered, throwing her hands in the air. “Three Musketeers one, MECH zero!”

A wide, beaming smile spread across Raf’s face. Full of zealous relief, that he could finally help his best friend. Jack felt his own heart beating faster, a rush of excitement coursing through his veins. But wasn’t because of the same celebratory mood as his friends, as a single thought kept churning in his mind.

 _They found it_.

It was impossible. Utterly impossible. MECH had risked their entire operation by attacking the Autobots in broad daylight. They would have fled the moment they had the chance, to avoid detection before anyone thought to look. The warehouse, obviously used recently and still filled with their supplies, was even abandoned. There was no reason they would abandon a T-cog.

Suddenly the cold steel around him disappeared, replaced by dark stone and ancient bones. The spark extractor within reach, deceptively inviting. Now it was the T-cog, abandoned, unguarded, _tempting_.

Jack recognized the rush that had seized his body. _Panic_.

“Guys, we need to move!” he yelped, already jumping to his feet and twisting around. While his friends gawked in confusion, he bolted towards the back of the truck. Only for the door to slam shut.

Jack skidded to a halt, just before his nose slapped into a metal, his ears ringing from the harsh bang that assaulted them. Miko and Raf were by his side in an instant. It was then there was a distinct _click_ , heavy and cold and cruel as it reverberated across the truck.

“No!”

“HEY!”

“Let us out!”

Raf desperately attempted to pull at the handle, but the door did not budge. Meanwhile Miko pounded against the metal with all her might, screeching at the top of her lungs. Jack only froze with horror.

It was then everything clicked into place. He remembered MECH had kidnapped him from NEST, fully expecting for the military to respond to the crime. In fact, they were _planning_ for it. No doubt they knew that their actions in Paris would cause unwanted attention, and they adjusted their operation to it. They _knew_ would be followed.

“Jack, w-what’s going on?” Raf demanded in a quivering voice, more terrified than confused.

Suddenly the limited world around them trembled with a terrible growl. Jack flinched, recognizing it as the truck’s engine, roaring to life. Sure enough, he dug his heels in as suddenly the cabin shifted, Raf and Miko even having to brace themselves against the wall. Cold horror turned Jack’s veins into ice, and looked up at the blanched expressions of his friends.

MECH hadn’t left in a hurry to avoid detection, leaving behind a sweep up crew to clean the mess. No. They waited patiently, hungrily, bracing to pounce on the team of special forces, a group of angry robots, or a trio of foolish teenagers to wander into their lair. And depose of the threat once and for all.

Jack realized.

The plan wasn’t to steal Bumblebee’s T-cog.

 _This_ was the plan.

“It’s a trap. It’s been a trap since the very beginning.” 

* * *

 Jack didn’t know how long the trio of teenagers battled the door. At first they took turns, trying to force the metal door open. Then they worked as one, tackling and ramming and pounding against the cramped, metal box they were stuck in until exhaustion seeped into their limbs.

However, they used whatever energy they had left to protest, yell, and scream. Miko was by far the loudest of the trio and latest the longest, shrieking obscenities and threats that Jack wasn’t sure their captors heard. Not once did they receive a reply, not even a grumbling voice or a bang or any sound from the outside world. The only noise was the growling of engine, a constant rumble that was the only indication what they were actually in.

Of course, they tried their cell phones, only for the words “no service” to glare back at them, and a taunting beep whenever they made a call anyway. Jack’s stomach knotted. If the truck was designed to hide a Cybertronian’s radioactive signature, then it could block a cell phone signal.

Soon even Miko quieted down, and they fell into an air of misery. Jack leaned against the wall, arms crossed defensively over his chest. Raf curled into a little ball, silence save for the small whimpers that escaped every once in a while. Miko was like a caged lion, growling and hissing as she paced restlessly back and forth, fists by her side. Occasionally she would try to goad their captors, but of course, got no reply.

Jack wondered if anyone even knew they were trapped inside the vehicle. As thick as the reinforced metal was, he wouldn’t be surprised if it was soundproof, or at least horribly muffled. Then he realized it was unlikely. Their surroundings had been deathly silent, deathly still, until the moment they stepped into the truck. They were being _watched_ , their attackers waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike. The armored vehicle was not only a mode of transportation. It was a _prison_.

Jack then began to reason why MECH (oh, it _had_ to be MECH), why bothered to keep them alive. Even when he was taken into their custody, Silas had made it clear he had no intention to let his prisoner live more than twenty-four hours. It was unlikely they were expecting snooping kids to walk in on their clever trap. No doubt they had prepared for a demolition force. But instead of shooting the teenagers where they stood (when the trio didn’t even _see_ them), they merely snatched them up like a feral cat walking into a cage full of food.

It didn’t make any sense.

Hours ticked by. Jack felt the truck shifting back and forth, likely navigating the tight streets of Paris, and then it only rumbled as it glided around smooth road. The vehicle had paused a couple times, the engine even turning off. Both times all three teenagers froze, tensed, and held their breath, braced for whatever greeted them. Only for the engine to come back to life and their tight prison to shudder once again. They had stopped to refuel, Jack realized. He judged they must have left the city, and driving somewhere _far_ away, but with no windows, he had no way of judging what was happening outside.

Eventually it became late enough the group no longer had the energy to stay awake. Raf was the first to go, his eyes red and puffy and his head nodding. He fought sleep even when he was still shaking with fear. Jack saw it cruel to force him to stay awake, when he was obviously stressed and exhausted. After some gentle coaxing, the fifteen-year-old boy slumped against his shoulder.

Miko was far more restless, fueled by anger more than anything, and had always been a night owl. However, she had used up all her energy in her fits and soon she traveled to Jack’s other side and collapsed against him. The eldest found himself effectively pinned between his exhausted and terrified friends, but could not find the will to follow their example.

His stomach was knotted too tightly and his muscles were too tense. Every time he closed his eyes, they would open on their own accord. For once he was grateful of his insomnia. Last thing he needed was to close his eyes and open them to a faceless glare. Eventually Jack grew desperate enough to close his eyes and reach out through the blood-bond. Either he was too stressed to focus properly or Megatron was ignoring him (again), because he was only greeted with inky blackness.

Jack sighed and snuggled in the pile of his friends, using their warmth as his only comfort. Eventually the boy felt the organs in his stomach resettle and at first he thought he imagined it, but their miserable little box seemed _tilted_. An incline, then. Where was MECH _taking_ them?

More hours came and went. Jack’s only company was the steady breathing of Miko and Raf, the snarls of the truck, and a still bloody T-cog. Eventually the silence stretched on for so long a ring tormented his hearing, making all the harder to sleep. Even though, Jack felt the darkness close around his vision several times, his consciousness almost falling into the abyss.

Only to jar awake when the world suddenly came to a halt.

Jack blinked, unconsciousness still trying to seize his mind, but his senses were already detecting his surroundings. Only for the rumble that had accompanied him for several, horribly long hours to vanish. Suddenly the box shuddered with an aggressive force, like a door being slammed shut. Then Jack heard a new sound.

Garble, but it was raised and stressed, like— _Voices_.

“Guys, wake up,” Jack murmured, gently nudging his friends.

Both moaned and cuddled closer in protest. After a few more persistent shakes, Raf blinked his eyes open and Miko raised her head without even opening her eyes. Both gasped in disorientation, but after a few moments, the panicked fog in their eyes was replaced by the clarity of realization. But no less scared and confused.

“Where are we?” Raf murmured.

“I don’t know,” Jack whispered back. More voices drifted from the walls around them, still raised enough to pierce their prison.

“What’s the plan?” Miko hissed.

“Still thinking.”

Jack didn’t have one, even after sitting in the deafening silence alone for hours. With no idea where they were going or what they would face, he couldn’t form one.

“We need to get the jump on them somehow!” Miko protested in a whisper-like hiss.

Then Jack had an idea.

The army brat heard the latch of the lock being removed, following by the long, shrill squeak of the door being opened. It took all his willpower not to swallow, especially when he thought he heard the clicking of guns. Then a shuffling sound and heavy boots on metal. Miko’s grip around his hand tightened, but Jack did not dare open his eyes. Even when a rough hand seized his shoulder, shaking him.

“Hey, kid, rise and shine,” came a bark.

Only then did Jack snap his eyes open.

Before the two MECH soldiers above him could react, he raised his knees to his chest. With a yell, the teenager sent his heels into the closest man’s chest, sending him stumbling over the chest and into the opposite wall. Miko was already jumping to her feet, lithely stepping out of the other extremist’s reach. When he came too close, the Japanese girl kicked out, her boot colliding with the man’s groin.

There was a howl of agony as he collapsed onto the ground, doubled over, but Jack didn’t pay any mind. Finally the fight or flight instinct that had laid dormant for the last eight hours awakened, and the boy did not dare disobey. He bolted out of the truck, his shoes landed on solid ground, and lunged forward.

Only to slam into a tall, unmoving figure. Jack wheezed as he collided with something _hard_ , and before he had the chance to ricochet off the object, a crushing, iron grip seized both his arms. The army brat hissed, and forced himself to glare up, only to meet cold, black eyes.

Silas.

 

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meh, I rewrote this chapter multiple times, and I'm still not happy with it. However, next chapter will be much more interesting. ;)


	10. Operation: Bumblebee (Part 2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So with this update I am out of a surplus of chapters. School is demanding most of my time (and energy), so I do not have as much time writing as I would like. That said, I will no longer be able to keep up an updating schedule. This story is by no means going on hiatus, but I cannot guarantee when the next chapter will be up.

The leader of MECH was easily twice Jack’s size, a full head taller than him and his shoulders were twice as broad. His white hair of age and stress was cut short to his scalp. His strong, sharp features that may have been considered handsome were ruined by ugly, jagged scars. Caused by the same ambush that destroyed his brothers-in-arms.

“Well, _what_ do we have here?” Silas sneered down at him, making Jack freeze.

Behind him, he heard Miko’s squeal of protest as she was tackled to the floor and Raf’s whimper as he was shoved up against the wall of the truck. Jack couldn’t help but glance over his shoulder, to turn, to help his friends, only for fingers to seize his chin and forcefully pivot his head back.

“Nah-ah,” Silas chided sharply. Jack curled his lip in the beginnings of a snarl, but the MECH leader ignored it as he eyed his prize. Without breaking eye contact, he raised his voice to carry over the sounds of struggling to address the ring of soldiers around them. “It seems a rat has stuck its nose where it doesn’t belong. Rather, a _pack_ of rats.”

“Let them go,” Jack demanded automatically, low enough only his captor could hear.

“You are no position to make demands here, _brat_.” It was then Silas’s sneer widened into a nasty smile. Suddenly the man leaned forward, and the boy flinched when he felt hot breath on his ear as the terrorist whispered, “Thank you for saving us the trouble. Now I don’t have to worry about hunting you down.”

What? Before Jack could even think of a reply, he was shoved backwards where two pairs of hands seized them. The boy automatically struggled, but his new captors were twice as strong as him, effectively keeping him in place. Instead, he looked around.

Sure enough, night had fallen, having a black blanket cover the sky. He quickly understood where the incline came from. Sharp, guarding mountains surrounded them, outlined against the black night. The armored truck had parked in the center of a cluster of buildings. They were plain and boring, looking like broad warehouses more than anything. Merely functional enough to suit MECH’s needs, and nothing more.

Where were they? Jack quickly tried to remember the last time he looked at a map of Europe. Mountains, only several hours away from Paris. The Alps?

“Cuff them,” Silas ordered, already moving past the captured teenagers.

Jack grunted as his arms were wrenched behind his back and cold, sharp metal was tightly bound around his wrists. Judging by the whines and hisses beside him, Raf and Miko were receiving the same treatment. Silas didn’t spare them a glance, observing a group of technicians pulled out the chest. They dropped it at their commander’s feet, instantly unlatching the top.

Silas stared hungrily as the T-cog presented to him, like he was offered a free Thanksgiving dinner instead of something that was once part of a sentient being. Instead of being memorized by the device, he turned to one of the engineers.

“Get to it.”

“Yes, sir,” the man hummed.

The group did not have to be told twice, collecting the chest and scurrying away. It was then a soldier hovering near Silas decided to near his leader.

“What about them?”

Jack merely glared when the ex-Navy SEAL finally turned his attention back to his prisoners. His eyes flicked over all three of them, but the army brat felt his skin crawl as that frigid gaze lingered him a moment longer.

Finally, Silas decided, “Take them somewhere quiet and out of the way. I don’t want them making any noise.”

While the three teenagers glanced at each other apprehensively, the lieutenant merely nodded. Without further ceremony, his captors roughly tugged him forward. The group was half-dragged, half-ushered towards the closest building. Jack noticed they were being escorted to a different entrance than Silas and Bumblebee’s T-cog. He gritted his teeth, but he could not protest or resist as the pair of extremists forced him through a metal door.

While it was cool outside, the frigid air conditioning made him shiver. The halls were blank and bleak. The walls were a dull, off-white concrete and the lighting was dim with bulbs few and far between. It was so gloomy Jack had a hard time seeing the far end of the corridor.

“Cheery place,” he muttered. And he thought the _Nemesis_ ’s interior was depressing.

“Quiet,” one of his captors ordered, even lightly cuffing him upside the head.

Jack wisely shut up after that, until he let out a cry as he was roughly shoved inside a random room. Unable to break his fall, he slammed face-first onto the ground with a grunt. He heard rather than saw Miko and Raf land beside him. Almost the same time they crashed, the door slammed shut behind them.

“You’re just going to leave us here?” Miko wailed. “ _Rude_!”

Jack seethed as he tried to awkwardly stand up. His captors hadn’t bothered to uncuff them, and the odd distribution of weight and the lack of his arms made it awkward to move. Miko and Raf were able to wiggle to their feet as well.

Jack quickly scanned the room, only to find it barren save for a handful of forgotten crates. Likely it was an extra storage, just large enough for them to walk for a few paces, and nothing more. There were no windows or doors, the only exit being the one they were just shoved through. No doubt the only door was locked and guarded.

Like Silas had said, MECH had merely shoved them in here to keep them out of the way. He was much more interested in his newest prize. But it was only a matter of time the MECH leader turned his attention back to his captives.

“We need to get out of here before Silas figures out what to do with us,” said Jack, fruitless pulled at his bonds.

“Ya think?” Miko snapped.

Getting the hint, Jack sighed. He internally cringed, trying to formulate a plan, a solution, but came up with nothing. They _had_ nothing. What—

Unlatched cuffs landed at his feet.

Jack stared for a full thirty seconds before he glanced up. Only to see Miko, her unbound hands on her hips, smirking triumphantly. Both boys stared.

“How did you—” Jack started, but fumbled to finish the sentence, horribly confused.

The girl raised a bedazzled piece of flimsy metal, singing, “~Hair clip!~”

Jack couldn’t even process a reply. Raf, thankfully, could.

“Hurry and uncuff us!” the Hispanic boy pleaded, already turning around so she could reach his pinned wrists.

“Wait,” Jack spoke up, just as Miko raised her makeshift key to free her friend. Both gave him baffled looks. “I have an idea.”

* * *

 

It was only a few moments later Miko was yelling almost to the top of her lungs, arms behind her back, feet kicking against the metal door.

“HHHEEEY! LET US OOOOUT!” she screeched. “Come in here and show us your ugly faces, you spineless jerks! I know you can hear me! ANSWER MEEE!”

Jack was convinced he was going to go deaf when _finally_ the door violently swung open, slamming against the wall with a bang. It revealed a masked soldier, but the boy could sense his scathing glare behind the tinted visor. The boy instantly tensed at the man’s arrival, moving out of the extremist’s peripheral vision as he stormed into the room.

“For the love of God, _shut up_!” the MECH agent seethed, matching up to Miko with balled up fists.

“Or what?” the girl challenged, not missing a beat as she glared right back.

“Or I’m going to shut that mouth of yours for you!”

Despite the broad-shoulder soldier was twice her size, Miko was unfazed. “Ha! I like to see you try, Stormtrooper.”

Jack froze as the soldier bristled, and for a moment he was afraid the man was actually going to hit her.

“Oh, just wait until Silas gives the word, and I _will_ ,” he growled in a low, threatening tone, but Miko just flipped her dyed bangs dismissively.

Jack moved forward.

“Too bad you’ll never get the chance,” the girl continued, smiling triumphantly now.

“Why’s that?’

“Because you’re really easy to distract.”

The soldier realized his mistake too late. He had his glare settled on Miko the entire time, his back turned to the other boys and completely forgetting about their existence. He moved to twist around, but Jack was faster.

He snatched the handle of the pistol holstered to the soldier’s belt. As the man turned around, it gave the perfect angle for Jack to pull forward and upward, releasing the weapon from its confines. He leaped back before assaulting hands could snatch him, raising the pistol towards the agent.

“On your knees and hands behind your back, would you please,” Jack said in a fake polite tone, his smile matching Miko’s.

The soldier froze at the sight of the cold barrel. Despite the fact he was wearing full body armor, he did not seem to want to take his chances at point-blank range. Obviously the man had merely volunteered for guard duty, and was not expecting to be outwitted by three nosy teenagers.

Covered gaze never leaving the gun in Jack’s hand, the MECH agent slowly slunk to his knees and pressed his wrists together. Raf took that as his que, clasping the cuffs into place.

“So just stay quiet for a few minutes, and we’ll get out of your hair,” Jack assured. “Unless you want to explain to Silas how you ended up like this.”

The soldier stiffened at that, no doubt fearing his leader’s wrath, allowing the teenager to move forward and pull open the door.

“Let’s go.”

* * *

 

“H-how are we going to get out of here?” Raf asked in a shaking voice.

“Hopefully MECH won’t be expecting any trouble from us,” Jack replied, “so there won’t be so many guards.”

“No. _How_ are we going to get home?”

Then Jack realized. Raf had set the timer, repeatedly reminded them of their deadline, their only transportation home. That the groundbridge would open in four hours. They had been in France, or wherever they were now, for _nine_.

The trio exchanged alarmed glanced and Jack swallowed. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get there.”

With that, they moved on. The compound was not as complex as the Pentagon or the last MECH base, but it was larger. The teenagers walked at a brisk pace, while at the same time trying to stay quiet. Jack led the way, checking if the coast was clear twice before ushering his friends onward. Thankfully they did not have run-ins with any guards, but there was a close call when Miko stepped into a hallway, only to find a soldier down at the other end. With a quiet squeak, she jumped back before the agent turned his head.

Finally, the tense silence ended when Raf whispered, “Do you guys hear that?”

“Hear what?” Miko piped, cocking her head. Thanks to listening to shriek metal at deafening volumes for years, Jack had caught on even at sixteen, she did not have the best ears.

However, the army brat paused and sharpened his hearing. At first, he almost agreed with Miko, that there was nothing, then he heard it. A high-pitched squeal, followed by an ugly grinding noise.

“Sounds like construction, kind of,” he murmured.

“MECH’s building a resort?” Miko hypothesized.

“Hush.”

Jack listened again. There were certainly the roars of machinery, but instead of the sounds of crushing concrete or room-shaking bangs, the noises sounded _metallic_. And they were close.

“Come on,” Jack murmured.

Probably against his better judgement, they moved _toward_ the noise. But if lead somewhere, if they could use it to escape—

Soon they came to a broad steel door, that Jack opened as hesitantly as the one earlier that night. Instead of being greeted by silence, the boy was assaulted by a racket of noise. The distance buzz he and his friends turned into an ear-splitting screeches that had him wincing, Raf covering his ears, and Miko unfazed.

However, all three instinctively flinched when they recognized dark, masked silhouettes. Reacting quickly, Jack leaped out of sight and skidded behind the closest stack of barrels. Only when he accidently clanged against the metal shell, he heard a sloshing noise within. He blinked, glancing  down, only to see a familiar symbol and a memory flashed before his eyes.

_On one side of the hangar was a collection of metal barrels, some standing alone while others were stacked in neat piles. There was a technician weaving a forklift between them, as another snapped orders. The vehicles cut too close to a stack more than once. Which would of have disastrous consequences, as Jack stared at the deadly symbol plastered on each barrel._

_Biohazard._

Jack’s stomach twisted. When he was rescued by NEST, he had learned just what was in those containers.

Energon.

But… NEST confiscated it all in the former base. Where was MECH getting it all? _Why_ were they getting it?

Slowly, cautiously, Jack glanced around his hiding place, his friends following his example. Only for all three to gasp and their body to turn rigid. It took a full minute for Jack’s brain to translate what he was looking at, but it looked so misplaced, so odd, it refused to except it.

In the back of the giant hangar, was a structure at least two-stories tall. At first, it looked like a tangled mess of wires, sewn together with no purpose or order. They were protected by haphazardly placed titanium plating. It did poorly to completely cover the structure, leaving circuitry and joints exposed. Then Jack noticed two dull, black lights staring blankly at the world.

It was only then Jack realized was he was looking at.

A robot, standing tall and straight with legs and arms and a head and everything.

“What _is_ that?” Miko gasped in a harsh whisper, saying what was on everyone’s minds.

Jack couldn’t answer her, too horrified and too transfixed on the sight. A team of technicians were surrounding the thing, using scaffolds and ladders to reach the upper parts of the robot. Several wore thick armored masked and held flaming welders, sparks flying in every direction as the tool was dragged across the metal hide.

Then the boy noticed a familiar figure. Shoulders squared, feet shoulder-width apart, hands clasped behind his back. Silas stood a safe distance from the busy workers, but watched them with an intense scrutiny. When the last of the welds were complete, one of the technicians approached his critical leader.

“The instillation of the transformation cog is complete, sir,” he reported.

Jack’s mind reeled. Instillation? Did that mean Bumblebee’s T-cog was _in_ that thing? Then he did a double take. The technician called it by its true name.

_“I doubt the primitive fools knew what they even took. Likely they merely wanted to take it as a toy.”_

_How_ did they know?

Silas nodded. “Standby for beta test.”

“What’s going on?” Raf demanded in a hiss. For a moment, Jack didn’t respond.

 _“It looks like MECH was trying to build their own little factory,”_ Fowler had informed him, as the boy was collapsed against the hospital bed after narrowly surviving his encounter. _“Found a storage of energon and a laboratory. It looks like they were trying to reverse engineer the Cybertronian weaponry—we think.”_

It was then the blood in Jack’s veins turned into ice as frigid realization. Like the pieces of a sick, twisted puzzle, everything clicked into place. No, there was no _way_ …

“Jack, what’s wrong?” Raf whispered, detecting his distress.

Jack’s mouth merely gaped, as the boy tried several times to speak, but no sound came out. Not even he knew what he wanted to say, but he never had the chance.

Suddenly, he heard a distance rumble, like thunder. He froze as it rolled across the air, only growing louder and louder. Suddenly the barrels rattled underneath his fingertips. Then Jack _felt_ it. A vibration in his chest, as powerful as it was familiar. A sensation he had felt _countless_ times, every time he passed the airfield in whatever base his father was stationed in.

The engines of a jet.

Miko and Raf recognized it, too,. They blinked out of their stupor, both perking up at the near deafening noise. Jack glanced around, only for his heart to seize in horror.

The MECH agents in the room hardly reacted to the noise. The technicians still fiddled with the project _,_ soldiers still idly patrolled the grounds. Silas’s gaze never wavered. Then, what—

Jack glanced to the side of the hangar, doors moved aside to the open air. Showing a black shape streaking across the night sky, its outline hardly noticeable against the darkness. Jack only noticed it because it made a sharp, impossible turn, nose pivoting right for the hangar. The jet was going so fast that the army brat thought would it would crash into the building. But it never happened.

The F-22 Lockheed Martin Raptor transformed.

Long, dangerously sharp talons flashed in the darkness. Broad, proud wings flared. A tall, lean figure landed gracefully on the ground, high-heeled thrusters muffled the clap of impact as much as possible. A scathing crimson glare of resentment and greed pierced the darkness.

Starscream.

Jack remembered the last time he had seen the Decepticon second-in-command. It was down in the mines, when Jack and Arcee had walked in on Megatron and Starscream, fusion cannon posed to execute the treacherous snake. Jack vaguely recalled Starscream used the resulting battle to escape, but since then… there had been no sign of the Air Commander. Until now.

Instead of raising the alarm or a gun, the MECH agents hardly stirred. Only a few glanced in the Deceptcon’s direction, either glaring in hate or staring in awe. Silas did not twitch. Then Jack’s stomach knotted when he realized. Raf and Miko figured it out, too, despite they were in as much shock as he was.

“The ‘Cons are working with MECH?” Miko gasped.

“No,” Jack shook his head. Megatron would _never_ ally with humans. “ _Starscream_ is working with MECH.”

He heard their gasps, but his gaze never left the exiled Decepticon. Starscream wasn’t even bothering to try to appear small around the tiny humans. He stood up straight and tall, wings raised high, as he confidently strutted forward. It wasn’t until Starscream’s thrusters stepped beside Silas did the man finally peer over his shoulder. No. _Glare_ over his shoulder.

“You’re late,” he barked, annoyed venom filling his voice.

“I apologize,” Starscream drawled, thought his tone sounded insincere. “You told me your lackies would arrive with the T-cog a solar— _a day_ ago. I grew a little restless waiting.”

Silas’s reply was curt. “They had to ensure they weren’t followed.”

“And were they?”

The MECH leader did not answer to that, leaving Starscream to form his own conclusion.

“Ah, the Autobots caught on to your little scheme, didn’t they?” the Decepticon practically giggled. “What do you know, they came on quicker than I thought. Grounders are usually so slow and dull, compared to the sharp wit and speed of a flyer—”

“It wasn’t the Autobots,” Silas muttered, crossing his arms over his chest in boredom.

Starscream moved onto the next theory. “It was their NEST, wasn’t it?” When he received no reply, the Seeker went on, “I often advised Megatron to seek out _human_ allies. After all, it seems to provide the Autobots with an occasional edge.”

“Do you _ever_ stop talking?”

“Now, with your resources and my insider knowledge, we will soon have our army.”

The terrorist glared.

“ _Your_ army,” Starscream corrected.

“What are they up to?” Miko asked, confused at the two’s banter.

It was then Jack was aware of his friends’ gaze on him. He swallowed thickly.

“They’re…” Just _thinking_ it was absurd. “They’re making their own Transformer.”

There was no gasp or wail. Miko and Raf merely went unnatural stiff, eyes widening and skin paling. They merely stared at him, frozen.

Raf made a choked noise as he tried to speak, until finally he forced out, “B-But that’s—”

“ _I know_ ,” Jack cut in.

“We can’t just let them get away that!” Miko protested. “What are we going to do?”

Jack thought. The D.N.G.S. was one thing. If MECH had a transforming robot, it would be disaster. It could disguise itself as any vehicle—any _military_ vehicle—and infiltrate any instillation without trouble. Then it was free to do as much damage as possible, and disappear before anyone had any idea what happened.

If MECH was planning to make an _army,_ with _Starscream_.

The exiled Decepticon was helping them. He was _helping_ MECH build their own Cybertronian. Something that was against reasoning, against _nature_ . Starscream had meddled with dark energon and raised Skyquake from the dead in a desperate attempt to usurp Megatron, but Jack never expected the snake to dabble in something so _taboo_. The Seeker had to have known it was impossible. Only the Well of Allsparks could give a spark to a protoform.

MECH would only have a lifeless husk. It would be a tool, a thing. A _robot_.

Then looking in that haughty, self-assured sneer, Jack realized. Starscream _did_ know that. He had no interest in orchestrating a miracle. He merely wanted MECH’s energon and spoils for himself.

Jack made a decision.

“You two get out of here,” he ordered, turned to his friends. “Get as much distance between you and MECH as you can.

 _“What?”_ Raf and Miko exclaimed simultaneously.

“We can’t just break up the band!”

“No, we’re not just going leave you! Not this time!”

“This isn’t a debate,” Jack hissed lowly. “Last time I tried to run away from MECH, they just hunted me down and dragged me back. That’s what they are going to do to all three of us if we try to make a break for it.” Looking at the terror in his friends’ eyes, he went on, “We have to keep them busy, just long enough for us to get away and find help.”

“But why _you_?” Miko cried.

“Because I am the one with the best chance of getting MECH’s attention.”

“Jack—” Raf sobbed.

“I’ll be okay,” the boy replied, though he had to find the energy to make his voice sound reassuring. “You two just get out of here!” Both just frowned, unmoving. Jack gritted his teeth and couldn’t help from snapping lowly, “ _Go_!”

Miko and Raf flinched at that. They were perfectly still, for several, long, long moments. Then finally, slowly and reluctantly, they moved. Looking torn, they pulled away from their hiding place, quickly ducking to the next. Most of the soldiers’ attention were either on the contraption that took up the hangar or on Starscream, oblivious to the interlopers’ presence. Jack had to keep it that way.

He scanned the gigant machine, trying to find the tiniest detail, the tiniest flaw. There was a line connecting the artificial _Transformer_ to a glass tank of energon. Jack watched the container drain, as the robot hummed louder and louder, glowing brighter and brighter. As energon filled its fuel lines.

Energon was not just the fuel of all Cybertronian tech, but it was part of their life source. A T-cog wasn’t technology, it was _biology_. It would reject any other fuel source. Jack wondered just how much MECH had collected, to satisfy their significant demand. While the Autobots were still forced to dig up scraps.

Without his permission, the image of the energon-poisoned soldier flashed across his eyes. His body burned, eroded, from the combustible compound, that would cause a chain reaction with just a—

Jack realized what he had to do.

Before _logic_ could make him change his mind, he moved forward, staying low to the ground and keeping his steps quick and silent. He moved from one cover to the next, bracing all his muscles, but nothing happened. The robot’s growl only turned into a roar of machinery.

Jack skidded to halt, out of sight. Without wasting another moment, he gripped the wide cable, feeling the heat of the processed energon underneath the rubber insulation. He pulled out his pocket knife, forcing the tip into the line with all his might. The tubing was thick and flexible, refusing to cut open, but Jack sawed with all his might.

“Come on, come on,” he hissed. He didn’t have much time—

He let out a relieved gasp as the line split, with glowing blue essence bleeding forth. He did it! Now he just had to—

It was then razor-sharp talons filled his vision. Jack yelled and reared back, only to find himself pinned between the wall and a cold servo. Crimson optics flared.

“My, my, isn’t this a treat,” Starscream purred. “‘Jack,’ is it?”

The army brat flinched when bright red light assaulted his ears and razor-sharp fangs flashed. Before he could even think of a reply, several distinct _clicks_ filled the air. His skin crawled as he saw MECH soldiers forming a tight ring around him, Silas marching up with an irritated look. At the MECH leader’s glare, Starscream promptly released his catch. Jack didn’t even had time to bolt when two pairs of hands seized his shoulders, keeping him in place. The teen growled as Silas’s hard gaze flicked back and forth, before finally settling on his prisoner.

“Where are the other two?” he demanded, sounding more annoyed than upset.

“What other two?” Jack replied automatically.

Silas gestured and a solid fist was rammed into the boy’s stomach. Jack wheezed as pain exploded from his abdomen and all the air was ripped from his lungs. He tried to double over, only for his captors to shove him back against the wall.

Silas was already moving on to the next question. “How did you get over here?”

“You _really_ need to start hiring smarter people.”

The next punch collided with the side of his face. Jack wailed as white flashed across his vision. He thought he heard a sadistic chuckle that suspiciously sounded like Starscream, but he wasn’t sure.

“HEY, SCREAMY!”

Suddenly ice-cold fear pierced the fog of pain surrounding Jack’s eyes. Snapping his eyes open, he looked up, only to see familiar figure on the other side of the warehouse, just outside the open door. Miko was standing in full view, glaring defiantly at the exiled Decepticon.

Starscream just chuckled, “Ah, isn’t that convenient.”

“Miko, what are you doing?!” Jack roared.

“Saving you life!” the cocky girl replied.

“Just ru—gah!”

His desperate order was cut off with a gag as one of his captor punched him in the gut again.

“Get her,” Silas ordered crisply.

Several soldiers took off without hesitation. They hadn’t even took a step before Miko whirled around and vanished out of sight. To escape, to get captured, or get killed, Jack did not know. Panic seized his heart.

No, no, no!

Miko and Raf had to get away, if they had any chance of all three surviving this nightmare. He couldn’t let them get hurt. He couldn’t let these _insects_ succeed!

Jack felt a rush of heat fill his veins. Suddenly the world sharpened, allowing him to see each and every one of his captors. With a growl, he shoved forward, pushing against the hands holding him against the wall. There was a snarl in reply, and this time he saw the punch coming for his face. Jack forced one hand free, catching the assaulting limb by the wrist.

“What the—” the agent gasped, but the teen didn’t allow him to finish his sentence.

He twisted his captor’s arm, the wrong way, provoking a sharp cry. Acting quickly, he sent a solid kick to his abdomen, in vengeance of the abuse of his own. The soldier stumbled back, forcing his other captor to compensate. Jack would not have it.

His struck his fist out, colliding with the agent’s jaw, sending him to the floor. The teen felt his heart hammering in his chest, pumping fresh energy throughout his body. The world, clear a matter of moments ago, muted. Jack could just barely see through the purple haze of several MECH agents recoiling from the event. Even Silas, a safe distance away, gaped.

Suddenly there was a movement in the corner of his vision and the teen lunged forward, just as talons took up the space he once occupied. Starscream snarled.

Then arms wrapped around his middle, pinning his arms to his side. The army brat hissed, flailing in the burly soldier’s grip. The hold only tightened, placing painful pressure on his lungs. He wheezed and darkness appeared on the edges of his vision.

No! He would not be defeated so easily!

With a hiss, Jack rammed his head back, colliding the back of his skull with his assaulter’s nose. There was a wail of pain and the crushing grip relented. The boy still had to use all his strength to tear himself free, stumbling forward as he tried to regain his balance. Only to be greeted with the barrel of a gun.

Jack froze underneath Silas’s cold glare.

“Are you done yet?” the man drawled.

“No,” Jack snarled.

The teenager pounced. Before Silas could react, he wrapped his hand around the pistol, forcing it to the side, just as a deafening clap of thunder assaulted the boy’s ears. He couldn’t help but flinch, allowing Silas to shove into him. Jack dug his heels in, but he became painfully aware who was the stronger one as he was forced back several steps.

Determined, the boy tugged, and the gun ripped free. It settled all too easily in his hands. He sensed another movement, and ducked out of the way before Silas could regain his hold on him. Jack skidded a safe distance away, raising his newfound weapon, both palms wrapped around the handle.

His vision narrowed to that sharp, focused view, settling on the figure that had tormented him for so long. Silas. The vermin had desecrated his kind. It was only fair to return the favor. However, the man hardly flinched, and there was a squawk of laughter above him.

“What are you going to do, Jack?” Starscream chuckled. “Shoot us all at once? Are you going to shoot _me_?”

For once, the arrogant traitor had a right not to be concerned. To a Cybertronian, a lead bullet would do as much damage as a mosquito. Then Jack’s gaze flickered to the Transformer behind him. Such an abomination should not be allowed to function. Then he glanced at the fuel line he had cut, still leaking precious energon.

“No, I’m not,” the boy declared.

Ignoring baffled stares, he turned, aiming his gun. Shooting the line directly would do nothing, but the bullet was bound to ricochet off the solid concrete next to it. Silas followed his movement and his eyes went wide with horror.

“ _No_!”

Jack fired.

The reaction was instantaneous. Energon only needed a single spark to combust, and the chain reaction happened too quickly for any human to see with the naked eye.

He felt a force slam against his chest, ripping all the air out of his lungs. He crashed into the solid ground, hard, and pain erupted from his skull and his shoulder. His cry was drowned out by the roar of an almighty thunder, that shattered his ear drums. Waves of intense heat rolled across his body, right through his clothing and burning against his skin. Jack braced, waiting for the end to come.

Only it never did.

As soon as the explosion of sensations began, it came to a jarring halt. The violet hues were gone, replaced by a dark, thick haze that covered his eyes. He only saw flicker of movement across his vision. The rest of the world had vanished, replaced by a sharp, deafening ring. Jack winced when suddenly there was a second thunder, not as monstrous as the first, but made the ground beneath him tremble.

He felt something wrap around him. There was no warmth, only cold claws, yet it was careful in false gentleness, as it plucked him from the ground. Jack could not move if he wanted to. His limbs were heavy with pain and numbness. His head hung loosely. Darkness flickered across his vision.

**_Jack? What—_ **

Then were was a sound, harsh and deep and smug. It took him several long seconds to decipher it.

“Got you now, fleshling,” Starscream purred.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longest chapter yet! Whoo!

_The target was in their sights, now._

_They had already secured dozens of compounds. No one had stopped them, save for a couple of amateurs and a single military vehicle. At the rate they had been going, they would be back at the base by dawn. They could go home, and bring the pride back to their country._

_The door blew in easily, the newly made entrance wide and inviting. He didn’t hesitate to give the order. He realized his mistake too late._

_“Commander!”_

_Leonard Bishop screamed as he was consumed by flames._

Silas snapped his eyes open with a gasp of air. Only to suck in the thick debris of smoke. Instantly his muscles seized as years of instinct kicked in—to run, to fight, or to kill. Whatever came first.

But instead of feeling the hot sands of Afghanistan beneath him or hearing the yells of another language, he was greeted with cold concrete and wails of dismay. What—

“Silas, sir!”

A voice, muffled and muted, blocked out by the horrible ringing in his ears. It took him a full minute, his burning eyes staring at the black haze, to register the name. The alias. Leonard Bishop died with his team.

Silas managed to cough up a reply, forcing himself into a sitting position. Thick smoke lingered in the air, but he was able to make out the crimson light of flames and a blackened wall a distance away. It was then the cruel clutches of the past released him, and he was brought back to reality.

He was in the facility located in the French Alps, on the French-Italian border. Their base of operations for Project Chimera, where they would—

Silas’s body seized again. _No._ The man looked at the flames, only to see the fire consuming at a dark, burnt, _destroyed_ shell. The blaze ate hungrily at oil in the robot’s fuel lines. Metallic groans and roars filled the air, like a monster fighting for its last breath. Shrapnel and debris covered the floor. Silas had been standing on the edge of the blast, so its shockwave had merely knocked him off his feet. Others were not so lucky.

Silas could only stare at the mess. _Months_ of effort, from scouring for scraps of metal and resources, _wasted_. Because of that _brat_ —

Wait. Where was he?!

The MECH leader snapped his sharp gaze back and forth, looking for the pesky teenager—Suddenly the wall next to him moved.

Then he remembered.

Silas glanced up to meet glowing red eyes. Even the robot, the De-cept-i-con, looked scuffed up. There were black scorch marks across scarred, silver plating and Silas even saw trails of its fuel source, _energon_ , leaking from compromised lines. Being the largest one in the room and the one closest to the explosion, the jet had taken the brunt of it. The robot just happened to be in the right spot to shield the unsuspecting humans from the worst of the eruption.

What do you know, the babbling fool was good for something.

However, the giant, winged Decepticon did not seem phased. As a metal being, the man doubted it could feel any pain. It even managed to rise to its full height, its sharpened fingers curled around something in its palm.

“And thus I prove my point,” came its metallic drawl as it peered down at the MECH leader. “For such simple-minded cretins, you humans are _clever_.” It flashed sharp teeth, almost like it was smiling. “But, not clever enough.”

Starscream unfurled his fist, revealing his prize.

Jack Darby.

It seemed the teenager didn’t think his genius plan all the way through, considering how close he was to the explosion when he fired the pistol. His shoes had been knocked from the force of the blast alone, and his jeans and shirt were burned and tattered. Crimson blood trailed down from his temple, and no doubt he was concussed. Supported by the fact he lay limb in the giant’s hand. At first glance, he looked dead.

“Is he alive?” Silas demanded automatically, wanting to be sure.

“Oh, I assure you, I would never _touch_ one of your fleshy husks,” the jet replied.

Despite his proclamation, Starscream carefully deposited his catch at the man’s feet. Jack didn’t even stir. Silas knelt beside him, a pair of fingers probing his neck, searching for a pulse. Weak, but steady. The boy would live.

Not how the MECH leader had planned things, but the brat was finally in his custody. And this time, there would be no Au-to-bots or NEST forces to interfere. Silas would finally have his answers. How the brat could utterly destroy his most skilled men. How the boy’s eyes changed to a purple hue. How Jack was immune to energon.

Finally, they could move on with the next phase of Project Chimera. However, one major step forward came with a great step back. Frowning, Silas straightened and glanced at the smoldering shell. A few brave souls were already trying to battle the flames, but the project was long gone. Along with that T-cog contraption, already implanted in the new frame. Another wasted mission.

“What about my T-cog?” Silas demanded.

Starscream did not seem concerned as he glanced at the ruined robot, drawling lazily, “Oh, not a significant loss. Another Autobot, another T-cog. You’ll get a replacement soon enough.”

Silas bristled. It had taken them _weeks_ to plan that operation! And it was unlikely it would ever succeed again, now that they had lost the element of surprise. No doubt the Autobots would be more careful from now on.

“Not soon enough,” the MECH leader growled, raising his hand in a gesture his men knew well. “ _Now_.”

Instantly the surviving soldiers around the warehouse turned, raising their weapons. Training them on the Decepticon. Starscream let out a small squawk and his wings raised like the tail of a startled cat. His crimson eyes scanned over the small army, noting the barrels pointing at the soft spots of his armor.

After a moment, he regained himself, squaring his shoulders and hissing, “Oh, most unwise, Silas. You think your army of insects can finish _me_? I am the Air Commander of Vos—”

His sentence was cut off as the robot’s scream filled the air. 

* * *

Megatron was triumphant.

Posted at the head of the bridge, he read over the reports with a widening grin. Breakdown and his patrol had found a fresh energon source, and were already beginning construction of a new mine. They only needed his permission for proper equipment to establish a base there. Then another report from Knock Out, telling how small group of Autobots and humans had tried to assault one of their energon deposits, but plucking off a few of the fleshlings had them running in retreat.

Leaving the Decepticons victorious.

Though Megatron was pleased, the reports only gave him more work to do. He would have to once again divide their resources to cover the new mine—perhaps even abandon one of their less successful ones. Then with the increase of income of energon, he would have to adjust the fuel consumption and rations. On Cybertron, the Decepticon leader had advisors to calculate such trivial things while he only approved. However, as his staff was so horribly thin, he opted to take the responsibility himself.

However, the management of his army and its little economy was much more dull than the thrill of battle on the frontlines. After increasing the rate of energon per troop (which no doubt even the drones would be thrilled about), Megatron moved on to the next report, this one from Soundwave. Laserbeak had found a suspected NEST base in the southern portion of the “United States.” It could likely lead—

Purple optics flared.

Megatron snarled as a rush of foreign instincts rushed into his processor, scattering data so quickly and so violently it severed his thought in half. Emotions, he realized, coming from another.

**_Jack?_ **

Then Megatron felt something. _Something_ cascaded across the blood-bond, filling his entire mind, his entire body. Raw heat scorched his entire neural net, so suddenly and so intense, he thought his processor would short-circuit.

**_What—_ **

Then as soon as the attack began, the explosion of sensations vanished.

Still reeling from the onslaught, the Decepticon became faintly aware of his cooling fans kicking on, trying to repel the build-up of heat. The violet shades that had covered his vision returned to a crimson haze. It was almost a breem when rationale returned to Megaton’s processor, trying to restore damaged files.

What had happened?

He knew it was Jack. It _had_ to be Jack. The warlord had yet to learn the full effects of the blood-bond. He still had to adjust to the brush of another’s thoughts against his own. More than once, a pesky human emotion would slip through, and Megatron had to update his firewalls to keep from getting distracted. However, this time, the dictator carefully pried open the blood-bond, probing. Only to feel a solid wall.

Was he— No. Megatron pushed the stream of data away before it could even finish processing. He would _know_ if Jack was dead. His pet was very much alive. Yet the bond between them had been shut.

How? There had only been a handful of times Jack managed to close off his mind. Megatron quickly went through the possibilities of such a thing. The last he saw of or spoke to his pet, was after the Autobots claimed the spark extractor. No. When their scout was assaulted by humans. And he instructed Jack to find the perpetrators. Megatron snarled, trying hypothesize what could cause such an onslaught, only to be interrupted.

_“Lord Megatron?”_

The Decepticon leader did not jump, but his vents did hitch, too lost in his thoughts to notice the silent newcomer. By now his cooling fans had calmed to low whirr, blending into the natural hum of his systems. Peering over his pauldron, he was greeted with one of—no, _the_ smallest Decepticon on the ship. Pitch-black armor almost blended into the shadows of the _Nemesis_. It was only the twitch of extra appendages and brilliant violent, compound optics that distinguished the Insection.

_“You summoned me?”_ Airachnid greeted in Cybertronian, obediently sinking to a knee and placing her servo over her spark.

Megatron sorted the last compromised files away and sent a command for his cooling fans to stop. He did not bother with pleasantries.

_“I understand you allied with humans during your… time from our ranks?”_ he inquired, keeping his voice deceptively cool as he clasped his claws behind his back. Not turning to face his second-in-command.

There were was a quick flare in her EM field, but Airachnid suppressed it before she answered, _“Yes, my lord.”_

_“Why?”_

This time the wires in her frame tightened slightly. As a Decepticon, even during her time of absence, she was well aware of her lord’s rather intimate experience with the humans, and his resulting opinion. She especially knew of the incident with Breakdown. Megatron could practically see the gears turning in her head, as she thought of an excuse that explained her behavior and did not make her appear as a disgrace.

Airachnid decided there was no point lying to the Lord of the Decepticons, admitting, _“Because the opportunity presented itself, my lord. It seems the natives of this planet are more divided than even we are. I came across—rather, I was approached by—a group of humans that despised the Autobots as much as we do, and… sought my expertise.”_

_“So you thought you could expect fleshlings to finish your battles for you?”_

Jack may have been resourceful, but the warlord would never have such a fragile creature fight for him. The human was to seek and fetch, like a good little pet. Megatron prodded at the bond again, reaching out to Jack. Still nothing.

_“Of course not, my lord,”_ Airachnid replied quickly. _“They merely made a good distraction, allowing me attack the Autobots.”_

_“And how did that work out for you?”_

The Insecticon’s vent hitched louder than Megatron’s had and her EM field flared yet again. There was several long moments, as the femme refused to answer. Megatron was patient.

_“Arcee… managed to escape,”_ she forced out.

_“Hmm.”_

Megatron glanced back at the report from Soundwave, taking his time to skim over it, well aware that Airachnid still lingered. He had not dismissed her, and not even she was willing to test the warlord. The Decepticon leader let the treacherous spider squirm.

After sending a reply to his surveillance chief, he moved on to the next inquiry, _“What can you tell me of these fleshlings?”_

“ _They call themselves_ ‘MECH,’” Airachnid answered. The English name sounded harsh and guttural. _“They consider themselves_ ‘ _freedom fighters_ ,’ _as they desire to abolish their city-state’s—er_ , country’s— _caste system.”_

Megatron did not correct her that Earth’s caste system was nowhere near as strict and rigid as Cybertron’s. On Cybertron, one was destined by their frame and birthplace. On Earth, was one destined by their wealth.

However, he knew even Airachnid struggled to describe human affairs in Cybertronian. As the advanced race had concepts that could not be fathomed by any human, the fleshlings had too many words their language did not have.

Megatron was still trying to understand the thoughts he had sensed from Jack. They were all to harsh and quick and _primal_. Humans emotions were so foreign and complicated, almost outside comprehension. The Decepticon pressed against the bond, but he was only greeted by silence. Why was Jack not answering? Where was he?!

The tyrant kept his voice levelled. _“Is it true they wish to use our technology to accomplish this?”_

For her credit, Airachnid wisely thought about her reply, and not risk Megatron’s wrath. _“They wish to learn from us, Lord Megatron.”_

The Decepticon warlord cocked an optic ridge. _“Oh? And what makes you think that insects are capable of learning our secrets?”_

_“They are clever. What they lack in size they make up for in ingenuity. More than we give them credit for.”_ Then in an odd tone, Airachnid added, “ _Surely you have seen this in your pet.”_

Instead of agreeing, Megatron growled lowly, warning the Insecticon that she was crossing into dangerous territory. She got the hint and retreated to another argument.

_“Just look at their technology. They build things to make idle tasks more convenient or find more efficient ways to kill each other.”_

Megatron was growing bored, reminded of a speech Starscream had once given him. _“Your point?”_

_“Why waste the little forces we have,”_ Airachnid lectured, gesturing around the bridge, _“when we can let the humans destroy themselves?”_ It was then a cruel smile spread across her lips, sharp fangs glinting. _“Perhaps, they may even terminate the Autobots for us?”_

Finally, Megatron caught on to what his second-in-command was insinuating. Finally, he realized Jack could not hear him. The Decepticon whirled around, snarling. Automatically Airachnid flinched back, but paused when she realized her leader was not attacking her.

Instead she stood frozen, as Megatron said slowly, dangerously, _“You_ dare _speak of sharing our weapons with insects, when they have_ stolen from us. _They have insulted our kind again and again and again. The Prime may forgive them, but_ I will not. _When their precious guardians fall, when they realize they cannot resist, the humans will have a choice: serve us, or perish.”_

And Jack would choose. Megatron would _make_ him choose.

Airachnid had cowered at the rant, unknowing slipping in an Insecticon’s submissive pose. Her appendages shrunk against her back and she lowered close to the ground, talons curled near her spark.

_“Forgive me, my lord, I meant no disrespect,”_ she hastily apologized, just barely managing to keep her voice even.

Airachnid was hardly a coward, but Megatron was well aware she valued her own function more than anything else. And without the shadows to hide in, she reverted to her base programming. The Decepticon leader snorted in contempt and turned his back to the spider.

_“You are dismissed_ ,” he huffed.

Airachnid did not need to be told twice. She slipped away on hurried, quiet pedes, leaving Megatron alone. The tyrant had his fangs bared, still processing their conversation.

No, he would not allow insects take what was his. They would not take his weapons. They would not take his pet.

There was a reason Jack was sealed from him.

Megatron would find out.

With that, the Decepticon lord left the bridge. It was time to pay the communications center a visit. 

* * *

Jack first felt pain. It pulsed from behind his eyes, reverberating through his skull and coursing through his entire body. A persistent ache gripped his muscles. His shoulders were burning. He shifted, trying to alleviate the soreness, but his limbs hardly moved. It was then Jack was aware of cold, biting against his skin and tingling against his spine.

...What?

It was then he heard a noise. It was horribly distorted, sounding distant and muffled against his ringing ears. The boy tried to force his eyes open. Only to be greeted by harsh, assaulting light. He hissed and squeezed his eyes shut.

More sound. With a quiet moan, Jack slowly blinked his eyes again. The light was still there, still blinding, but he forced himself to look up. The throb behind his eyes turned into a vicious pounding. The teen could only make out shapes. A tall, dark one, moving in front of him.

Megatron? No, it couldn't be.

His blurry, doubled vision focused, just to make out a familiar, scarred face.

“Silas,” Jack growled, only to hear his voice was low and hoarse.

“About time you came around,” Silas replied in his own growl as he settled in front of the boy, crossing his arms behind his back. “We tried to wake you up before, but you wouldn't respond. We were getting worried.”

What? Jack opened his mouth to demand what he was talking about, then memories washed over him like a tidal wave. He was in Paris, with Miko and Raf. They got captured by MECH. He… he told them to run away while…

The image of the lifeless Transformer flashed across his eyes. Then flames.

Jack shut his eyes tight from his migraine. Did… did he do that? Did he really destroy the Transformer? Then… how was he still alive? He had to be caught in the blast range.

It was then the army brat realized something was wrong. Instead of a hospital bed or a cot he woke up in before, Silas was _standing_ in front of him. Jack became aware of the ache in his limbs, the cold, and a distinct rattling sound above him.

He jerked, but the chains held fast around his wrists. They pinned his arms above his head, secured to a metal pole behind him. The soles of his bare feet barely touched the cold concrete. Glancing down confirmed his chest was bare as well, only leaving him in his jeans.

“What the frag?” Jack exclaimed, jerking again, only for his metal binds to dig into his skin.

Silas quirked his lips in a ghost of a sadistic smile.

“I apologize we could not give you more comfortable accommodations,” the MECH leader apologized, but his tone was not sincere, “but this is all we had under such short notice.”

Jack highly suspected that was a lie. Instantly his mind started reeling, his senses slowly clearing, too slowly. He could only make out shadows of a dull room around him, a single, glaring light illuminating the floor. He glimpsed a table behind Silas, but the man filled his view, preventing him from seeing its contents.

The army brat didn't understand. Surely MECH wanted him dead. Silas had even said so himself. Then why was he here? Where was—

Jack’s blood went frigid as he remembered. Miko, hotheaded girl that she was, screaming for attention, before scampering away. A pack of soldiers on her heels.

“Miko!” he gasped. “Raf! Where are they?” When Silas just stared, he repeated, “My friends! Where are my friends?”

“Alive,” Silas assured. “Unharmed. Behave, and they’ll stay that way.”

Jack shivered at the not-so-veiled threat, but he glared bravely at his captor. “You didn't answer me. Where did you take my friends?”

“Somewhere safe,” the man stuck to his vague answers. “A bit shaken up, but they’re fine.”

Jack was relieved and horrified at the same time. Miko and Raf weren't harmed, but they were far from okay. MECH had them locked up somewhere. They were alone and confused and scared—

Then Jack realized.

“You’re lying,” he accused, grateful some strength was finally returning to his voice.

Silas cocked an eyebrow. “And what makes you so sure of that?”

“Because I know Miko.” When the extremist just narrowed his eyes at him, the boy went on, “She’s not scared of anything.”

Miko ran into the face of danger, not away from it. Jack had lost count how many times she ran into an open groundbridge, and tried to inch towards the center of a robot battle royale. Usually almost having the army brat killed during the fiasco. For a long moment, Silas just stared, then he curled his lips in amusement.

“You _are_ smart,” the man muttered, but it hardly sounded like a compliment. “Too much for your own good, brat.”

“I found your secret base, didn’t I?” Jack taunted.

“It doesn’t count if we _took_ you.”

The boy narrowed his eyes and tried to read his surroundings again. There were no windows, so it was impossible to tell where he was. Were they in the same base, or somewhere else? He turned over the night’s events, trying to remember every single detail with a migraine.

“You left a trail on purpose,” accused Jack.

“More or less,” Silas shrugged. He turned, pacing back and forth. “I learned quite a few things from our last encounter. For one, that NEST highly values their assets, which is to be expected. I knew if I took out one of the robots, they would send a strike team after me. That warehouse you walked in to? That was where my men were supposed to neutralize any tails.”

The man glared at his prisoner. “So imagine their surprise when three dumb kids walked in.” A shrug. “But I got what I needed, so I can’t complain.”

“So _all_ of the that, was just to get a T-cog?”

“For the most part.” When Jack just glared in confusion, Silas went on, “Why do we think we chose Paris? Dense, well-populated. If the Autobots came, they would have to keep a low profile. And possibly, require the assistance of their human allies.”

The MECH leader looked pointedly at the boy. Jack’s stomach knotted as a paranoid suspicion resurfaced in his mind.

“So then that trap was for me?” he hypothesized.

“Our original plan was to fetch you in the catacombs,” Silas admitted, and a chill crawled down the boy’s spine. “We were prepared to take that bike, too, but then… there was an unexpected variable.”

Jack realized. “Ravage.”

The Decepticon had been lured by the frequency just like he had been. It was likely the deadly beast startled MECH, who wasn’t expecting the uninvited guest. However, it made Jack’s skin crawl, knowing MECH was _watching_.

Noticing the man’s irritated look, he grinned and jeered, “What? Didn’t know Decepticons come in ‘small size,’ too?”

“Well, now we do.” The extremist paused his pacing and turned to face his captive. “And now we have you.”

The army brat’s chest tightened at the odd tone, and he narrowed his eyes to a glare. “What do you want from me?”

“You destroyed Project Chimera. I think its only fair that you compensate for it.” A sadistic glint appeared in Silas’s eye. “But helping us start anew.”

Jack didn’t like the sound of that. Unable to process the man’s meaning, he latched onto a single word. “Ch-Chimera?”

“A monster of Greek mythology, with the head of a lion, the body of a goat, and the tail of a serpent. According to legend, it was an omen of disaster, ravaging the countryside of Lycia with its fire. That was until it was slain by the hero Bellerophon.”

“So does the story have a point other than that you’re a nerd?”

Silas gave a huff that may have been a laugh, but the boy wasn’t sure. “A story became an inspiration for future scientists. The Greeks loved take harmless animals, and twist them to create ferocious monsters. So, mankind began to wonder, was it possible to combine the genetics of more than one animal to create a new species?”

“Are you going to throw a human in there?” Jack interrupted sarcastically. He didn’t expect Silas to take him seriously.

“Oh, they tried. All of them failed.”

“As much as I love the history lesson of the insane, you didn’t answer my question.”

“ _Listen,_ and I may tell you,” Silas retorted, and Jack snapped his jaw shut. However, he had to struggle listen as the man continued to lecture, “MECH has conducted research and found that other scientists were taking the wrong approach. They were trying to open the lock without the key. MECH, has found that key.”

The prisoner was getting bored, tired of the fact that Silas was talking in circles. How did _any_ of this have to do with that fact the boy was chained to a pole in a basement? MECH had kidnapped him, to what, lecture him to death? In revenge of the loss of their demented Transformer, that had something to do with a chimera?

Then Jack flinched. But Silas explained they wanted him _before_ he destroyed the robot. Then… what did he have to do Project Chimera?

For the first time since his captor started with his ludicrous speech, Jack humored him. “And what might that be?”

The MECH leader looked almost satisfied that he finally got his captive’s attention, turning around to walk towards the table. It was covered in vague tools, but Silas instead picked up a tablet.

He fiddled with it as he neared Jack, saying, “Last time you were in our custody, we discovered in anomaly in your systems.”

The boy flinched. He remembered. Desperate to escape, he had given into Megatron’s will. Overwhelmed by the warlord’s bloodlust, he fought Silas, almost killed him, until he managed to regain his humanity. It came with a cost. The MECH leader could not ignore Jack’s deadly alter-ego, and instead of killing him, he dragged him to the laboratory. They had run test after test on him, until NEST forces finally arrived.

Jack hadn’t given any thought since then. He had hoped that whatever MECH had collected from him, it was destroyed during the battle. His hopes were dashed, when Silas turned the tablet in his hand so the boy could see the screen.

It was only thanks to his biology class that the teenager immediately recognized a microscopic picture of red blood cells, but something was wrong. Dark, ugly shapes protruded from the cells, looking like crystals. Jack knew instantly what it was.

Dark energon.

_“It’s a part of you, now. Not just in blood or in your heart, but the darkness of your soul. It cannot to removed.”_

Silas watched him, waiting for a reaction. The army brat didn’t know how to respond. MECH _knew_. They knew about the dark energon. Just because of a blood test, they had revealed his secret. He didn’t want to confirm anything for his captor, but Jack could not hide his horror.

“As I thought,” Silas murmured. “You _do_ know.” He lowered the tablet, and a wicked sneer widened. “So you know what it is, don’t you?” Jack looked away, but his captor did not let him have that luxury. Suddenly an iron grip took his chin, forcing him to look back at deadly eyes. “Energon.”

“Congratulations,” Jack spat, “you diagnosed me with energon poisoning. The docs say I have two months left to live.”

Silas scoffed at the statement. “We already have the results from the rest of the tests. There are no effects from the energon on you.” Jack swallowed and tried to jerk his head free, but the MECH leader did not relent. Instead, his tone turned accusing and fascinated at the same time. “You’re _immune_ , aren’t you?”

Jack shivered, and that was all Silas needed as an answer. He released his prisoner, and went on in that odd tone, “Fascinating. A human immune to inorganic material. A material, that powers _machines_.”

Jack’s first instinct was to correct him, that Cybertronians were anything but. However, it did not make his condition any less impossible. It took several moments of his mind reeling, his sanity trying to accept this absurd situation was really happening. Then the boy replied with his own argument, as weak as it was.

“And so what if I am? What does it matter to you?” Jack demanded. “Energon just destroys everyone else. You’re not even sure if its just killing me slowly.”

“Perhaps,” Silas humored him, “but it hasn’t killed you yet. I want to know how.”

Before the army could continue the argument, Jack started when a door swung open.

Another MECH soldier, dressed in the same Kevlar armor, but he wore no mask, allowing the teenager to see his face. The man had silver hair, cut short to his scalp like Silas’s. Crow’s feet branched from his ice-blue eyes. His face looked like it was made of stone, stern and unmoving, lips pulled in a frown.

Jack eyed the newcomer, except the agent completely ignored him, and even Silas. He went straight to the table, messing with its contents. The MECH leader didn’t acknowledge him, either, arms still behind his back and cold gaze still on his prisoner. Jack found his skin crawling without his permission. He pulled at the chains again, but to no avail.

“Now, it’s obvious enough the energon has some kind of enhancing effect on you,” Silas mused, gaze looking almost thoughtful. “However, the effect requires a trigger. And since you were so kind to demonstrate for us, my team of scientist have devised a theory.”

Demonstrate? When? Jack had fought Silas _months_ ago and the man had been the only one to see his dark state. He didn’t— Then Jack remembered with a start. The hangar, when he approached the robot. Starscream had pinned him… and he remembered… getting so _angry_.

Ignoring the boy’s look of horror, the MECH leader went on, “It appears the energon is… ‘activated’ when you are subjected to high levels of stress.”

“So?”

“ _So,_ if we figure out what activates it, we can use it.”

For a long moment, Jack did not hear what Silas said. Only when he did, it took several long seconds to even translate the words. Even when he did, he still did not believe it.

“ _Use_ dark energon?! Are you insane?” he shrieked. “How can you even do that when all it’s going to do is _kill_ you? Why do you need _me_ to figure that out?!”

Silas struck out. In a blink of an eye, the man pounced and Jack wheezed as a solid weight pressed against his chest. He instinctively raised his knee to strike at his assaulter, but muscular legs pinned his lean ones. This time Silas didn’t have to seize Jack’s face, their noses less than an inch apart, so close that the only place to look was at the large man’s eyes.

“Because you are a _chimera_ ,” Silas hissed, low and dangerous like a snake. “The product of two organisms, the perfect meld of man and machine.”

“Do I look like some ‘techno-organic’ to you?! Well, sorry to disappoint you, but I can’t shoot lasers out of my eyes or spout wings!”

“Maybe not. But perhaps this ‘dark energon’ can be useful in different ways. Once MECH unlocks its secrets, we will evolve mankind into a new race. One that even _they_ will fear.”

Jack felt a block of ice formed in his heart, as he finally understood Silas’s words. But his logic still argued, still resisted. MECH’s plan was so impossible, so _insane…_ And they were going to use _him_ to somehow accomplish it.

“You’re… a monster,” Jack hissed.

Silas’s wide, satisfied, evil smile looked too much like a demon’s. “Oh, Jack, we are _all_ monsters here.”

With that, the man pushed off of his prisoner, allowing the boy to breathe again. Panting, he glared defiantly at Silas, not daring to show fear to this madman. The leader just stared at him a moment more, with a gaze Jack had never seen before. Like the teen was a priceless treasure just dug up from the earth.

“He’s all yours, Marcus,” Silas said as he moved away, gesturing to his subordinate. “Remember, I want him in one piece.”

Before Jack had a chance to ask what was going on, the MECH leader slammed the door shut behind him. The stranger instantly took his leader’s place, a strange object in his hands. Before Jack could react, he pressed the barrel against his arm and he yelled at the stab of pain.

“Sorry about that, just following orders,” the man, Marcus, apologized, but it did not sound sincere at all. His was deep and cold, with a hint of an accent Jack didn’t recognize.

The teenager panted, eying the odd device in his hand. What… what had the man injected him with? A drug? A sedative, a stimulant?

“What was that?” he demanded to know.

“Since we can’t exactly strap a bunch of monitors to you, the eggheads cooked up in the laboratory,” Marcus explained in an unconcerned drawl. He crossed over to the room over to the table of tools. “It’s a monitor that goes through the bloodstream, reading your blood count levels, your blood pressure, even your heart rate.” The MECH agent turned and smiled at him, like they were actually friends. “It’s a shame, we don’t have something this fancy at a real hospital.”

Jack said no reply, just glaring back at his captor, wrists pulling at his restraints. The man only shrugged and turned back to his desk.

“Now, its completely up to you, but—”

Suddenly Marcus raised a tool, and Jack’s blood froze. Silver steel glinted in the fluorescent light. Thin, sharp, deadly. The teenager’s heart raced in fearful anticipation at the sight of the knife.

“The more you squirm, the more it hurts.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am a horrible person.  
> For the purpose of the fanfiction, “techno-organic” refers to a human with traits of a Cybertronian, such as increased and immunity to energon, such as Jack’s case. However, MECH labels him a “chimera.”  
> chi·me·ra  
> 1\. (in Greek mythology) a fire-breathing female monster with a lion's head, a goat's body, and a serpent's tail.  
> 2\. an organism containing a mixture of genetically different tissues, formed by processes such as fusion of early embryos, grafting, or mutation.  
> 3\. a DNA molecule with sequences derived from two or more different organisms, formed by laboratory manipulation.  
> After some brief research, as I’ve yet to take Genetics, to my understanding there is two different ways to produce a real-life chimera. Most occur in nature, usually in which an embryo absorbs its twin, and takes on the DNA of both. Usually this results in different eye color, different pigments of fur/skin, and two different blood types. There are both animal and human examples of this. However, there are chimeras that possess the DNA of two different species, due to lab manipulation. In my story, “chimera” will refer to the latter definition.


	12. Pain and Suffering

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter contains graphic descriptions of torture and aftermath of torture. If it bothers you, please skip. Why am I so mean to Jack…

Soundwave was nothing but resourceful. The humans’ communication system was so primitive it didn’t even have a means of defense, allowing the surveillance chief to easily hack into the right frequency. Even if it was an Autobot’s.

 _/“Miko…”/_ Megatron recognized that voice. The heavy-frame green Wrecker, Bulkhead. He recognized the name, too. _/“You know I can’t—”/_

The organic femme didn’t even allow him to finish. / _“Jack’s in trouble!”/_

_/“What? What do you mean?”/_

The channel was filled high-pitched, wets sounds as the girl, Miko, practically sobbed. Megatron could hardly make out the pathetic whines as the human told the story, how Jack had gotten the other two pets involved, and managed to get themselves captured. The Decepticon bristled. Then she explained how she and the runt managed to escape in the chaos.

 _/“You WHAT?”/_ Bulkhead roared furiously. / _“Miko, I_ told _you— Wait a second. Where is Jack?”/_

 _/“I-I don’t know! M-MECH took him!”/_ Another deafening wail. / _“They took him! It’s all my fault!”/_

Megatron ignored the Autobot’s frantic assurances in response, instead whirling around with a violent snarl. Realizing his lord had lost interest, Soundwave promptly shut off the transmission, just as Bulkhead barked something about retrieving his lost pet.

Meanwhile the Decepticon leader was furious with his own. He _told_ Jack to be more careful. The fleshling could not even follow simple instructions! He had hoped Jack would know enough to be _discreet_ , as he had no problem doing before. Instead, he likely revealed himself, and now he was—

The thought was interrupted by the lord’s yowl of pain. The Decepticons posted in the communications center flinched. Megatron doubled over, gripping his abdomen and baring his fangs. The dictator growled as white-hot _agony_ coursed through his neural net. It was sharp, harsh, _deep_.

Soundwave was by his side in an instant, a thin servo on his broad shoulder. He used what little of his frame to hide his master’s distress, but kept an arm’s reach away, careful to not invade the Decepticon’s EM field.

The third-in-command had a right to be concerned, Megatron supposed. They had both fought in the Pits—they had even traded blows on more than one occasion. Soundwave was well-aware that one did not become the Champion of Kaon by crippling because of a mesh wound.

But there was no wound there. Instead it was caused by something else. Caused by the pain of another. Caused by Jack.

But that still did not explain what was happening. The human’s discomfort was usually insignificant—the worst attacks would trigger a mere flinch. This was not the case. This was far from the shallow flashes of pain he would feel. It was almost like the assault he sensed earlier.

Megatron pressed against the bond of darkness in the back of his mind, prodding. Only for his processor to be assaulted by a whirlwind of emotions. Fury, sorrow, shame, fear, and many, _many_ more. He promptly closed off the bond with firewalls and useless data, muffling the onslaught.

With a strained grunt, he straightened. Soundwave continued to hover on the edge of his EM field and he heard the shifting of baffled drones, but the tyrant paid it no mind. Instead, he processed what he had just experienced.

Agony.

Jack’s agony.

His charge was in agony.

How? Were those _pests_ involved? If the human had gotten himself captured, it was the only logical assumption. Then that meant…

 _Humans_ were hurting Jack.

Megatron let out a dangerous growl, and Soundwave wisely stepped back. Jack thought he could chastise the Decepticon leader about the Cybertronian’s mortality, when he forgot his own race’s fragility. Humans, they were so easily damaged and killed, and yet they still turned on each other. All so they could take what was not theirs.

Jack did not belong to MECH.

He belonged to _Megatron_.

He carried the memories of the warlord, he carried the blood of Unicron, he carried the corrupted heart of a Decepticon. Even the Prime realized that, leaving Jack to Megatron’s mercy. Oh, and how quickly the human clung to him, once he realized the Autobots had abandoned him. It was only a matter of time now.

This ‘MECH’ would not interfere. They would not damage his property. They would not _take_ his pet.

Jack was _his_.

Megatron turned to his surveillance chief.

“My pet has been stolen from me,” the lord hissed. “Find him, Soundwave.”

The forever loyal third-in-command never had to be told twice. With a single nod, the communications turned to complete his task. 

* * *

Jack wailed as the two guards holding him up unceremoniously dropped him on the cold ground. Sending jolts of white-hot pain from his still-bleeding wounds.

The army brat had tried to resist when the stranger, the _torturer_ , Marcus, had neared him with that wicked blade. He went as far as sending feeble kicks at his assaulter. It rewarded him with his legs being tied down. Jack still squirmed, still pulled, still taunted and cursed out Marcus when he noticed the sadistic glee in the man’s eyes. However, it was useless.

With the precision of a surgeon, the torturer sliced the sharp edge of the butcher’s knife across the fragile skin of his torso. Jack had gritted his teeth at the first few strokes, swallowing the sounds of pain, not wanting to give his tormenter any satisfaction. Then hisses escaped. Then whimpers, then wails. Finally screams when the agony became too much to bear.

He must have passed out at some point. He awoke to soldiers half-carrying, half-dragging him through dimly lit hallways. And dumping him here, slamming and locking the door behind him. Jack’s chest was pressed against the frigid floor, and he couldn’t find the energy to raise his head. The pain radiated from the deep gashes, having his entire body ache. His head hurt.

It took time for the fog that had covered his mind to dissipate and rational thought to return. He tried to make sense of this absurd situation. But he couldn’t. Jack could only come to one conclusion: MECH wanted _him_. They had been after him the entire time, and for what? To study dark energon?

Jack wished he could save them time, and himself, by showing them the burnt body of Torres. Energon and humans were incompatible. Even if he was an exception, it meant nothing for everyone else. Even as those thoughts drifted through his head, the teen knew his argument would not stop Marcus from coming for him again.

He had not broken. Or, whatever “broken” meant, at this point. Jack had bore through the pain, and the torturer did not hide his disappointment at the overall lack of reaction. It was only because the boy’s skin turned pale and his eyes glazed over was when he finally stopped. The boy sucked in air through his teeth, his abused chest quivering in a shaky breath.

At least Miko and Raf were okay. He could only hope. But MECH did not have them, which meant they escaped. His plan worked, even if it worked _too_ well. Maybe the two could find their way home, find help.

_“So disappointing when the ones we trust betray us.”_

“Shut up,” Jack replied in a hoarse whisper.

He had forgiven his friends. They loved him and they stayed together, that was the only thing that mattered. They would come back.

Jack laid on the floor for a few more minutes. It wasn’t until he felt the strain in his neck from the awkward position did he finally stir. The army brat moaned as he propped himself on his elbows, pulling at his wounds. He tried to raised himself up, but only when he did, stabs of pain struck at his body. He hissed, and slowly, carefully, rolled himself over onto his back. Marcus had not given as much attention there.

However, the simple movement was exhausting, having Jack’s pants fill the void of silence. He stared up at the black ceiling far above him. There was no light this time. As far as he could tell, he was in a room, similar to the one they locked him and his friends earlier… that night? How much time had passed? Hours? Days? It was impossible to know.

Jack didn’t know how long he stayed on his pitiful position on the floor. He slipped in and out of unconsciousness, the darkness embracing him like an old friend before letting go and slipping away. The pain continued to roll across his body in waves, sometimes a violent spasm ripping him from his restless slumber. At one point, Jack thought he felt wet stickiness from underneath him.

He didn’t how much time had past, when his black world was replaced by harsh light. He had been floating between sleeping and being awake, and the intrusion dragged him into awareness. Footsteps of polished shoes, then a frantic gasp and a quiet curse. Not Silas. Not his torturer, either.

“Dear God,” a voice exclaimed. “Jack!”

Jack stiffened. He _knew_ that voice. A voice that came from the earliest memories of his childhood, and he had heard almost every day for two years. Now, he wished he never had to hear it again.

“Mmichel?” Jack slurred, trying to get his vision to focus.

He was greeted with a stern face, with silver hair and analytical brown eyes. Michael DiBiase. His family’s physician. His physician. His guardian. And now he worked with Jack’s captors.

A second light joined the first—a flashlight. Jack only squinted his eyes at the attempted examination, because of the pain it caused and in defiance.

“G’way,” he muttered.

“It’s okay, son,” DiBiase replied, fingers gingerly pressing the skin around his cuts.

Instantly Jack snarled and snapped his eyes open. Fresh energy coursed through his limbs, allowing him to send a savage blow into the doctor’s temple. The man fell over, not expecting the blow or the force behind it. The teenager tried to take advantage to jump to his feet, only when he moved into a sitting position, he let out a ragged scream. In the corner of his eye, he saw DiBiase move towards him, but he paused when Jack growled again.

“Stay away from me!” he yelled. “You’re _not_ my father!”

“I just want to help you,” DiBiase replied, eyes widening at the violent outburst.

“ _Help_ me? You’re with _them_!”

“I’m sorry for what Marcus did. He has no medical expertise. He shouldn’t have—”

“He _tortured_ me!”

Jack’s arms instinctively curled around his abdomen, trying to cover the worst of the gashes. By now the blood had tried to a dark red crust, sticking to his skin. DiBiase frowned at the display.

“I hate you have to get hurt, but understand this is only way to get results,” the man said softly, as if his statement wasn’t ludicrous. “Sometimes science isn’t—”

“So I’m only a science experiment?” Jack cut off venomously. “What about your promise to Mom? I’m your fragging _godson_!”

Suddenly DiBiase’s expression hardened at the mention of the woman. “I know. And that’s why I’m here. I managed to convince Silas to let me treat you.”

“That’s doesn’t make it better. You really think I’m just going to forgive you because of _that_? You can stitch me up all you want, but MECH is just going to cut me up again until I go Super Saiyan.”

“We just want to understand the effects of the energon—”

“And then what, ‘you’ll let me go’?” Jack spat. “They’ll kill me once they get what they want.”

DiBiase’s eyes narrowed. “No, you don’t know that.” The teenager only let out a scoff of disbelief. The man dared to near again. “Jack, just let me tend to those cuts. They’ll get infected if I don’t—”

The army brat muttered, “I’ll be fine.”

“ _Jackson_.”

The teen could count the number of times DiBiase called him by his full name with only a single hand. He _hated_ being called that. It made him sound like an old man. The people in his life quickly learned that, and quickly learned using the name was the best way to gain his attention—and his discipline.

For a long moment, the pair just glared at each other. Whatever love and trust Jack had a matter of months ago was _gone_. He hated MECH for their crimes. And the fact someone in his life agreed with them was a betrayal he could not forgive. Obviously DiBiase was still under delusion there some of bond between them, even as the teen’s blood stained the floor beneath him. Finally, logic poked at Jack’s mind. The sooner the doctor got what he wanted, the sooner he would leave.

“ _Fine_ ,” the army brat relented. “Just get it over with.”

At the invitation, DiBiase cautiously, slowly, approached Jack like he was a cornered animal. Just as carefully, the doctor took a hold of the boy’s arm and wrapped a hand around his shoulder. Jack groaned as he was hoisted to his feet. He unconsciously leaned against the man for support as DiBiase guided him to a cot he had failed to notice in the darkness.

Jack hissed as he laid on his back across it, but did not resist. His glare never left DiBiase’s as the doctor pulled out his tools. The man told him only a few of the cuts needed stitches, but the boy hardly found that assuring. His gritted his teeth as the needle drove in and out of his flesh, with surgical design. DiBiase had withdrawn into that disconnected persona, each movement critical and precise. Jack found he was calmer when he was working, and more inclined to answer the teen’s questions.

“So explain one thing to me, doc,” Jack filled the silence after a couple of gashes had been sealed. “How is making diabolical robots and kidnapping poor little boys fulfill your vendetta against the government?”

“We want to find the advancement in technology and medicine,” DiBiase argued, eyes never straying from his work.

“To murder more innocent people?”

“To show the world what mankind can achieve without those in power forcing us down. The government has made too many mistakes, and the people have to see that.”

“The government’s mistakes? Or my parents’?”

Jack got a reaction to that. DiBiase’s brow twitched, but his hands kept working. However, he answered through gritted teeth, “ _John’s_ mistake.”

“What was that? Having honor? Serving his country? Protecting his family?”

This time the doctor could not keep the venom from his voice, “If he truly wanted to protect his family, he would have stayed home.”

“Or was it Mom’s mistake? That’s what’s really bothering you, isn’t it? That Mom chose him over _you_.”

Suddenly DiBiase flinched, and Jack yipped as the needle curved into his skin, deep. The teen quickly recovered. After what he had just endured, the discomfort was insignificant.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Jack quipped through a cringe.

The doctor didn’t humor him with a reply, but his lips were pulled in a deep frown and his eyebrows were furrowed. He was working quicker than before, hastily tying the suture closed. The boy was glad to see DiBiase was clearly annoyed, only a fraction of retribution against his captors.

Jack went on, “Why doesn’t it bother you are hurting _her_ son? If you really care about Mom, you would let me go.” When DiBiase said nothing, pressing his lips together, the teen went on, “Or was it all a lie? That you just used her to get close to Dad, so you could go slinking back to MECH—”

Finally DiBiase snapped. He sprung up from leaning over Jack, towering over the injured teenager with a fury in his eyes.

“Everything I did, was for _her_!” he shouted, violently. “I gave her a job, a life! What did John do? I told her not to go. That everything she needed was in Jasper. Instead she went to Georgia, with that _jarhead_ —”

Jack rose his voice to an angry yell as well. “That jarhead was my father!”

“I knew he couldn’t provide for her. That a life in the army was too disruptive for a doctor. Sure enough, June had to become a nurse, when she deserves so much more—”

“ _Shut up!_ ”

Jack slapped away the hands and tried to sit up, only for the pain to flare. With a strangle cry, he fell back down. DiBiase moved, either to stop him or pin him down or both, but the boy couldn’t tell. Instead, he glared up at the man.

“Do you know _why_ Mom fell in love with Dad?” DiBiase glared down at him, as if challenging him, and the boy explained, “She _told_ me. She loved him because he was brave and fought for others. That’s what they tried so hard to teach me. To help people who couldn’t help themselves. That’s why she would never love someone like you. You’re just a cowardly and selfish man.”

The doctor’s gaze hardened at that, and finally that stony expression broke into a scowl.

“You’re traumatized,” the physician stated, as if it explained everything. “You’re looking for blame so you’re painting me as the monster. I’m still the same man.”

“Yes, you are,” Jack agreed. “It’s just taken me this long to see who you really are.”

DiBiase flinched, like the teenager had slapped him in the face. Then that snarl returned. “I’m finished here. I’ll be back in a day to see how they are holding up.”

“Don’t rush on my account.”

The doctor collected his tools quickly and roughly, and stormed towards the door. It slammed behind the man, and cloaking Jack in darkness. 

* * *

It wasn’t long until the prisoner felt his veins heating. Marcus had been so busy watching his eyes, he didn’t know he merely had to leave Jack alone. The human felt the dark energon coursing through his body. His wounds began a subtle tingling, as the blood of the Unicron attempted to heal its host.

Jack knew it would still take time for the cuts to mend, and they would likely leave behind nasty scars. The dark energon may have accelerated his regeneration, but it could only do so much. It would still take several days for the deep gashes to heal, and the teenager was not given that much time.

The torturer entered, that sadistic glee in his eye, and he was not alone. They beat him. Jack could only curl into a feeble ball as boots and fists of the MECH soldiers assaulted him. They targeted his bandaged torso, tearing apart the stitches and sending stabs of agony so violent that he cried out. Marcus ensured they were thorough, not leaving a single inch untouched. By the time they left, Jack couldn’t see out of his right eye and his chest was wet again.

It wasn’t long later, when DiBiase returned, true to his word. He placed the boy back on the cot, re-sutured the cuts, applied ointment, and left. Jack’s jaw hurt too much to start another argument.

It fell into a sick, twisted routine after that, the torturer and the doctor taking turns visiting him. Marcus would either pin Jack to his spot or drag him to another room, a different torture each time. Cutting or beating, whatever mood he was in.

The torturer’s knife traveled, finding fresh spots of his skin. Sometimes he would revisit old wounds, reopening healing scars and ruining DiBiase’s hard work. Soon his tormenter got bored with a simple blade, and started playing with different tools. Each one made Jack scream.

When Marcus did not want to handle the teenager himself, he gave him to the guards. The onslaughts were as violent as the first and even more painful. But the torturer deemed that became too dull as well. They began targeting certain parts of his body, hitting him in the same spot over and over until Jack was convinced the bone would break. However, they were careful, and went to the next best thing. The army brat could not stop his ear-splitting screeches as they dislocated joints, and popped them back in just as quickly. More than once DiBiase complained they didn’t set it correctly.

Jack fought every second of the way. He pushed against his captors, usually being rewarded with additional blow, but he would not bend to their commands. He insulted and joked whenever he could, feigning nonchalance. The teen tried to muffle his cries of pain, gritting so hard his teeth cracked and more than once he bit his tongue so hard it bled.

Marcus merely saw it as a challenge. He wouldn’t end a session until he elected a shout of agony from his victim. If Jack happened to fall unconscious, the torturer would wake him up and start all over again. The teen hated he broke each time, no matter how hard he tried. He felt pathetic when a pitiful whimpers escaped his lips or when he was so desperate for the agony to stop, he _begged._ Of course, his tormentor never listened. In fact, his pleas only seemed to urge the sadist on.

Jack didn’t know how to make the cycle stop. It was like they were torturing him for information. Oh, he wanted to give it up, tell them everything, but he didn’t what they _wanted_. It was not long when the teenager found out, when he felt a familiar rush as a MECH agent pinned him to the wall. His opponent sent hit after hit after hit into the wound on his side, making him cry out, filling him with wrath. If only this insect knew how easily a Champion—

Jack shoved down the intrusive thoughts. Through the haze of blood and sweat and pain, he remembered what Silas said. Dark energon. They wanted the dark energon. He couldn’t give in to the bloodthirsty desires. He would just be giving MECH what they wanted.

Oh, it was hard. Every punch, every kick, every slice, the darkness in Jack’s heart flared and he wanted to turn around and rip the assaulter apart. At least then it would _stop_ , and he would have a _chance._ But he fought to keep his hold on logic. Even if he gave in to Megatron’s will, what would he do? He could overpower the first few guards, sure. Perhaps even make it to the exit. But it would only take a lucky blow or a bullet to end his rampage, and likely his life.

Despite he was aware of MECH’s intentions, the organization did their best to keep their abused prisoner alive. DiBiase visited like clockwork, and not daring to leave once every bruise, cut, and wound was fixed. A couple times, he had managed to convince Jack’s torturer to allow him to recover for a day.

They brought him food, too, even as the army brat didn’t eat it. The first couple times, he merely glanced at the unappetizing meal and felt bile rise to his throat. The agent responsible for his nutrition didn’t care at first, until Jack continued to refuse. Then the man got angry, and Jack was pressed to eat, but he could only manage a few bites at most. When it made his feeder furious, he came up with a half-baked lie he was on a sensitive diet and certain foods made him sick. It still didn’t save him from a beating.

Jack had managed to crawl to his little cot. He curled into a little ball, shivering, and he wrapped himself in a rough, flimsy blanket. It was so absurd, the people so determined to make him miserable were also so determined to fuss about his health. DiBiase had already taken several samples.

The army brat tried to sleep, to escape, but his insomnia had hardly lessened, make him twice as exhausted. He was ripped from his fitful rest when the door squealed as it was swung open and the glaring light of his cell turned on. Jack immediately tensed and let out a quiet whine, squeezing his eyes shut. It was too early for DiBiase’s examination, meaning it was Marcus, coming for another session. And he wasn’t alone this time, as the boy made out two sets of footsteps. However, instead of his torturer’s sneer, another familiar voice greeted him.

“Wake up, brat,” Silas barked, like it was an order.

Jack knew it was fruitless to refuse. He blinked his eyes open, squinting as he tried to adjust to the harsh light. Sure enough, he made out the MECH leader’s broad form, but he blinked in surprise to see DiBiase in the man’s shadow. Still tense and his body aching from head to toe, the boy sluggishly rose into a sitting position. Suspicious, he met Silas’s glare with his own.

“I am told you’re not eating,” the terrorist growled lowly, clasping his hands behind his back.

“I’m on a diet,” Jack quipped with a shrug, only for his voice to sound terribly hoarse and he winced from the soreness of his shoulders.

“You said you get sick.” Now Silas looked suspicious and he glanced at DiBiase. “Yet I am assured by your physician you are not diagnosed with any eating disorders.”

Jack glared at the guilty-looking doctor, but said nothing. The MECH leader’s eyes narrowed.

“So tell me, why are you not eating?” he demanded in a low tone.

“I technically wasn’t lying,” the boy tried.

Silas scowled and stormed forward. Classically conditioned, Jack flinched back, away from his captor, away from the pain, only for his blood to freeze when his back pressed against the wall. Immediately panic seized his chest and his breath caught in his throat. Only for a cry to spring free as Silas’s fingers dug into his scalp, tearing at the roots of his hair and yanking his head back at a painful angle.

“You know what I think?” the ex-SEAL snarled, his face only an inch away from Jack’s. “You’re just a spoiled little brat with no discipline so you insist on fighting me every step of the way. Or maybe you’re hoping on skipping one too many meals, hmm?”

“Maybe I am,” Jack retorted, his strained voice cutting through gritted teeth. “But I thought the point was making me as miserable as possible, right?”

“Let me make something clear. I can make you suffer in ways you will not _believe._ I can break every bone in your body, I can tear you apart, but you _will not die_.” The boy flinched as he felt hot breath on his neck and heard Silas’s growl in his ear. “Because I _own_ you. You are _mine_ , and I can do whatever I want to you.”

_“You are mine, and mine alone.”_

Jack couldn’t stop the whimper that escaped, but if Silas heard it, he didn’t mention as he continued, “And if you’re going to act like a finicky little pet, then I will _force_ it down your throat.” At that, the man turned to DiBiase. “We have a feeding tube laying somewhere around here, correct?”

The doctor looked uncomfortable with the question, but answered, “Y-yes, sir.”

The teenager still tried to remain strong. “I’ll just throw it up.”

The grip on his scalp tightened threateningly as Silas insisted, “Then we’ll keep doing it until it stays down.”

Jack shook his head, but the movement was limited in his captor’s cruel hold. “I _can’t_ eat!”

DiBiase looked torn. “Jack, just do what he says.” Then he added in a softer tone, “Please.”

“I’m not lying!”

“DiBiase, go get his food, _now_ ,” Silas barked.

“W-wait! I swear! It’s the truth!”

The MECH leader’s growl was menacing. “Why should I believe you?”

Jack’s heart was hammering against his chest. Even on a good day, he could barely eat a full meal without purging it. He knew MECH’s solution would just be another torture. He didn’t want that _thing_ down his throat, forcing _sludge_ into his stomach that would only be immediately rejected. The boy’s mouth moved before his brain realized what he was saying.

“I-it’s the dark energon!” he cried, desperate.

Both men paused, DiBiase even stopping mid-stride towards the door. Silas’s grip loosened, ever so slightly.

“What do you mean?” he demanded.

Jack felt his body trembling without his permission, but he kept babbling, “I don’t know how it works! It, it isn’t compatible with organic materials. Everything I eat, the energon just rejects it.”

“You have to eat. No one can survive that long.”

“I-I have to force myself. Ever since I’ve had it—”

“How?” Silas interjected.

The boy shivered. “It-it was an ac-accident.”

It was hardly the truth, but it was a terrible incident he didn’t want to remember. A heavy, crushing weight on his chest, pinning him down.

Jack yelped when the grip tightened, tearing roots. Silas’s voice was low and dangerous. “ _How_?”

Bloody claws in his mouth, down his throat.

“Please…”

That noxious, _horrible_ flavor assaulting his tongue.

“You will tell me, or we will do this here and _now_.”

His pleas, Megatron’s laughter.

Jack was shaking madly, his hoarse voice hiccupping. He couldn’t stop himself in time.

“He-he _made_ me drink it!” he wailed.

The grip loosened, and instead of growls or gasps, he was greeted by silence. The boy hesitantly opened his eyes, to see DiBiase’s eyes were wide as moons. Silas’s own eyebrows were raised, the only betrayal of surprise he had. It was the doctor that broke the silence, taking a step forward. His voice was soft and careful.

“Who did, Jack?”

“I-I was s-s-sick,” the teen babbled instead. “M-M-Me—” He had to stop and swallow. “Megatron thought it would ‘fix’ me.”

DiBiase didn’t know the name, but Silas did, when he had captured and tortured one of the tyrant’s fiercest fighters.

“The _Decepticons_ gave you energon?” the MECH leader digested, his tone bordering on alarm.

Trying to fight the rush of horrible memories, Jack nodded, numbly. Finally the nails buried in his scalp retracted. He flinched when the hand moved, but it wasn’t painful or cruel. Merely smoothing back the hair it had rustled.

Jack wanted to get away, to hide, to escape and never come back, but there was nowhere to go. His mind was a fog and his entire body stung and burned and ached. Exhaustion crashed over him, darkening the bright world. But there was nowhere to go. The army brat slumped forward, limp, his head falling Silas’s broad armored shoulder.

The man didn’t shove him away like he expected. The palm continued stroking the back of his head. Jack flinched, his muscles tight. Then without his permission, they began to uncoil under the touch. Then DiBiase’s thoughtful murmur spoke up again, after a few moments of silence had passed.

“It… makes sense,” the doctor analyzed. “If he… consumed it, it explains how we can detect in his blood. Our digestive tract absorbs nutrients through the organs’ lining and passes it to the cardiovascular system. If he was exposed to enough of it, his body would begin to reject other fuel sources.”

Silas did not reply, and Jack had nothing to say. He remembered that particular itch, that he only felt whenever Megatron gave him dark energon.

_“So greedy.”_

He had never thought it was _hunger._

“DiBiase,” Silas suddenly spoke, startling Jack from his thoughts. “You are dismissed.”

The doctor was confused. “Sir?”

“Go, Michael.”

The tone left no room for refusal, and DiBiase did not dare question his leader again. Face buried in the crook of Silas’s neck, Jack didn’t see his expression, but the doctor left without a word. Jack didn’t want to be anywhere alone with Silas, never mind weak as a lamb in the monster’s hold, but he couldn’t find the energy to care.

The man never said a word, simply continuing the slow, _gentle_ strokes _._ A sharp contrast to the rest of the dark world, when every touch brought pain. But pressed against the warm chest, away from the cold, the petting was _comforting_. Even if it would only last for just a moment.

_Jack fell into darkness in the master’s arms._

He closed his eyes and fell into a dreamless sleep.

 


	13. Helpless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear school is trying to kill me. DX Sorry about the delay, but here’s a longer (and darker) chapter to make up for it.  
> WARNING: graphic description of torture

“This doesn’t make any sense.”

Lennox couldn’t agree more with Epps’ words. The lieutenant colonel restlessly paced the length of his office, ignoring the pair of stares boring into his back. Instead, he buried himself in his own thoughts, trying to rely on both his wit and gut instinct that had led his men into battle and saved his life thousands of times. Anything to find an answer, a _solution_.

“We should have gotten a ransom call by now,” Epps continued, shifting anxiously in his seat.

Lennox had no answer to that. He was still trying to wrap his head around everything that happened. He knew he should have been furious, that Bulkhead broke, and established communication with Miko, a civilian. And instead of chastising the lonely girl, the Wrecker had gone into a panic, saying something the kids had gotten into trouble again.

The man had Miko and Raf—with Jack, however short of time—living on his base long enough to know about the teenagers’ antics. He had hoped it was just another exaggerated incident. That was not the case, when Bulkhead repeated their story. Of course, the humans reacted grimly, while the Autobots went into a frenzy.

Mirage and Smokescreen had activated their weapons in a rage. Ratchet let out a string of Cybertronian curses. Ironhide almost barged through the groundbridge, to “blow some things up,” with the twins close behind. Even poor Bumblebee, without a T-cog and weaponless, flared with fury. Yet Lennox believed Arcee’s reaction was the most frightening.

Instead of going into a rage like the man expected, the femme was deathly quiet. The only betrayal of emotion she had was the widening of her optics and her wings oddly twitching. While her comrades rallied into a war party, Arcee had slunk back into the shadows. Lennox still had a hard time reading Cybertronians, who weren’t as expressive as humans, so he couldn’t tell what was going through the Autobot’s mind. But he had a pretty good idea.

Optimus Prime, as cool as ever, managed to calm his subordinates to approach the situation rationally. Lennox he didn’t have to face it. The NEST commander couldn’t risk turning his attention to the children, not because he did not have the time, but because of Galloway. The security advisor had continued their conversation after the excitement of Paris, and behind closed doors, Galloway was not as kind. The leash on the lieutenant colonel’s neck had tightened to a chokehold, and Lennox found it hard to breathe even when the government liaison left the island.

There was no way he could explain a military operation caused by _children_. Then again, there was no way he could stand up against ten angry giant robots. Lennox couldn’t just ignore the fact an American life was in danger. That _Jack_ was in danger.

He sent Epps, and a small group, people that could stay quiet both on and off the battlefield. However, when the squadron of special forces and group of vengeful Autobots arrived to the provided coordinates, there was nothing. Only cold, lifeless shells of buildings.

Not a single MECH soldier, or even a lone vehicle.

There was practically no sign of the terrorist organization. Except for the destroyed hanger in the center of the compound. There was an explosion. A big one. The walls and floors were completely blackened, covered by scrap and debris. Chunks of the building had even been blasted away, leaving torn, gaping holes. It was the proof to Miko and Raf’s story. That, along with the empty shell of a Transformer.

The one that MECH had built, using stolen parts, energon, and Bumblebee’s T-cog. All of it, burnt to a crisp, from the inside out. Ratchet would have to perform a miracle.

Lennox was aware of Simmons’s eyes following him as he continued his frantic strides across the room. Even the energetic man had sobered by the news, his lips pulled in a frown and his dark eyes thoughtful.

“Have we considered the possibility there may not be a ransom?” Simmons questioned.

Lennox shook his head. “We didn’t find a body, Simmons. If MECH killed Jack—”

“That’s not what I meant.” When the NEST commander squinted at the ex-government agent, he went on, “According to the kids, Jack stayed in that warehouse, and I have a pretty good guess he had something to do with that explosion. Probably to blow up MECH’s superweapon, which I’m pretty sure was _very_ expensive to make.” Lennox finally paused, digesting Simmons’s words. “I’d say they’re pissed.” The man shrugged. “At least, I would be.”

“But why take him, though? Silas isn’t known to have loose ends.”

“More importantly, how are we supposed to find him?” Epps spoke up. “We’re supposed to direct all our resources to the ‘Cons. We do much as _look_ at MECH, Galloway will throw all our asses in the brig.”

With a groan, Lennox collapsed in his chair and buried his face in his hands. Thus was the problem. The image of poor Fowler being cuffed and dragged away flashed across his eyes. Oh, how Lennox wished his friend was here. The liaison always seemed to handle the ‘Bots. At least, better than Galloway or Simmons ever could.

Now the NEST commander had to mediate an alliance on the brink of total collapse, and Jack’s life was in the middle of it. An American life. Someone Lennox had sworn an oath to protect, but now was being told that he couldn’t.

Part of him, that dark part of him he hated and depended on, knew he was being silly. He had led raids on entire villages, fought and killed dozens of terrorists, and a few innocents. What was one more life? Was Jack really worth the fate of the world?

Lennox swallowed. The other piece of him argued back. Jack was an ally to the Autobots. He _was_ an Autobot. They were prepared to go war for him. Even if it was against humans.

The lieutenant colonel couldn’t find a solution. Every option led to war.

“Don’t forget we have the other two kids to deal with,” Simmons pointed out unhelpfully.

The other two, Miko and Raf. Scuffed, traumatized, and riddled with guilt. Lennox couldn’t send them home like that. His men had found them hiding in the woods, a good few miles away from the compound, where the teenager had finally found a signal to call the Autobots. He had made the decision to bring them to NEST, and the teenagers had clung to their guardians ever since.

“What do you want me to do?” Lennox sighed. “They’re _children._ So is Jack. We can’t just leave American civilian in the hands of terrorists.”

“What do you suggest we do?” Epps asked. “Last genius plan didn’t work out too well.”

“The ‘Bots aren’t even allowed to leave our sight,” Simmons added.

Lennox rubbed his forehead, realizing they were just going around the same circle.

“Maybe if we keep it quiet,” he murmured, low like he thought someone could hear. “Not a battle. Just someone silent that can slip in and out without being detected.”

“Good plan, except you got a problem,” Epps countered. “We don’t even know where MECH _is._ We have no idea how to find them, either. They could be in a cave or under a rock or in a big-ass mansion for all we know.”

“If they are building Transformers—” Just saying it aloud was surreal. “—they need the energon. We have detectors. If MECH slips, we’ll be able to track them.”

“Before or after Jack gets killed?” questioned Simmons. The other two men hardly flinched at the blunt words, but Lennox found his stomach knotting.

He forced himself to say, “MECH took him alive. Means they want him for something.”

“Of course they do. He’s best friends with the aliens. He knows stuff they don’t. To them, Jack’s an _asset.”_ The former Sector Seven agent fixed them with a hard stare. “And we _all_ know what happens when an enemy gets their hands on an American asset.”

Instantly the tense air thickened even more. His stomach knotted. He saw Epps’s Adam apple bob thickly.

Finally the chief master sergeant broke the silence, saying, “Jack’s a fighter. God knows his father was.”

“Still, you said yourself, the kid’s a kid,” Simmons pointed out. “He can only last for so long.”

Lennox found it even harder to breathe. He may have not known Jack personally, but he knew his father. Both men were there that night, when that helicopter—that Decepticon—attacked their base. Lennox had made out it, he had been able to hug his daughter and kiss his wife. John did not. The lieutenant colonel left him there to die. No, he couldn’t do the same to Jack.

Suddenly his thoughts were broken by a shrill ringing from his phone. Although Epps and Simmons stirred at the sound, Lennox knew it was not an outside call. The tone determined it was a transfer from another part of the base. With a sigh, the lieutenant colonel answered.

Instantly he was greeted with thunderous claps of metal on metal and vicious, deafening growls. Sounds the NEST commander had heard before. Then a shaky, frantic voice filled the line.

“S-sir—” A monstrous roar. “Ironhide’s on a rampage again!”

Lennox groaned inwardly, but kept his voice cool and filled with authority as he replied, “Understood. I’ll be shortly.”

Before the woman could reply, he ended the call and stood. Epps and Simmons close on his heels, he stormed out of the office. And hope he could stop an intergalactic war. 

* * *

Lennox had dealt with a raging Autobot before, especially in the last few days. Bulkhead was the first to go into a fury, though his target had been Ratchet’s medbay, much to the medic’s chagrin. Ironhide was close behind, randomly firing off his cannons at abandoned vehicles, even when there were humans nearby. Then surprisingly, Ratchet had gone off, banging his rendered-useless tools against the lone console. Soon the computer was rendered useless, too.

The Autobots were certainly more tolerable to the idea of peace than their counterparts, but Lennox had come to the conclusion they were no less violent. The Cybertronians were a proud and mighty race that had lived through _eons_ of war. They were more likely to answer their problems with a punch or a gun, because that was the only solution on Cybertron. Optimus Prime could calm them down, but he could only do so much.

Lennox could see that for himself, as he walked towards the airfield, just as Ironhide grumpily kicked over a Raptor. The jet let out a metallic groan as it crashed to the ground with a terrible thud. The surrounding humans recoiled at the event with frightened wails, while the commander and his companions let out angry yells.

“Ironhide!” Lennox shouted sharply.

“That’s one of my birds!” wailed Epps.

“HEY! My taxes pay for that!” Simmons cried. “Will you chill out?!”

Ironhide growled, low and deep, and he turned to the approaching group. While several of the technicians reared back with terrified whimpers, Lennox refused to be intimidated.

“Don’t break jets,” he scolded, each word loud and clear like a parent chiding a child having a tantrum. The tone only made the proud Autobot growl louder.

“Then what should we do?!” Ironhide yelled. “We can’t go after the ‘Cons, we can’t go after MECH! Everyday Megatron snatches more energon, and now a group of rotten pests has one of our own!” The weapon specialist pointed an accusing finger at the NEST commander. “And you fleshlings tell us to do _nothing_.”

The Autobots rarely called their human allies by Cybertronian terms. Lennox had only heard handful of times. Such as when one of the little beings tried to tell the great giants what to do. The man sighed, willing patience, and wondered if Optimus was on his way yet. Though armed with a temper, Ironhide was always loyal to his leader. The lieutenant colonel just hoped he would just listen to the human until then.

For the last several years, Lennox and Ironhide had been the leaders of the NEST’s forces. They and had shed blood, sweat, and energon together. They traded tactics, advice, and even friendly words. The two commanders had developed mutual respect for each other, and sometimes, they were something close to partners.

“We’re doing everything we can, ‘Hide,” Lennox assured carefully.

“ _How_?” Ironhide roared. “Every time we take a step forward, Megatron is already five ahead! Bumblebee may never transform again! And now Jack has been stolen— _again_!”

“The enemy hasn’t won yet—you know that. Once Ratchet fixes Bumblebee’s T-cog, we’ll be up and running to find Jack—”

“ _If_ Ratchet manages to fix it.”

Lennox opened his mouth, only to be unable find a reply to that. His stomach knotted at the disturbing image that flashed across his eyes. The technicians pulling the charred, splintered sphere from that _thing_. The man didn’t even realize what it was at first, until Bumblebee let out a broken wail. Not it was up to Ratchet.

“Do you doubt your medic, Ironhide?” a deep voice rumbled.

Lennox glanced up at the voice, just as a tall shadow fell over him. He let out a relieved sigh at the sight of Optimus Prime.

Despite the gravity of the situation, the Autobot leader looked calm, looking at his subordinately sternly. Sure enough, Ironhide immediately blinked out of his rage and stood to attention like soldier in front of his commanding officer.

“No, Prime,” the weapons specialist answered swiftly.

Optimus nodded in approval. “Good. You are to apologize to our allies, and later you will aid in repairs.” Bristling armor fell into place and there was a deflated affirmative. “But now you are to report to base. Bumblebee will want to see his comrades when he wakes.”

Another nod from Ironhide, this one much more solemn. The rampage ended just like that, Optimus Prime turned and transformed. Engine rumbling, he waited patiently as his subordinate did the same. Automatically Ironhide opened his doors, including the driver’s seat.

As always, Lennox approached the steering wheel cautiously. Many of the Autobots disliked having a human behind their wheel, knowing fully well that their passenger could take control from them at any time. Although some were stronger than others, it was not an experience any of them wanted to risk. It took time to build up enough trust for the extra-terrestrials to relax around their newfound allies. Ironhide was the last to open his driver’s door, and he only opened it for Lennox.

The NEST commander settling behind the wheel, keeping his hands off of it and his feet away from the pedals. Epps clambered into the passenger seat and Simmons approached the backseat. Only for Ironhide to rev his engine threateningly.

“Not you,” the Autobot growled.

“Huh?”

“You’re walking.”

“Oh, come on, I thought we put that all behind us!” Simmons wailed. “Aren’t we supposed to be good friends by now?”

“No,” Ironhide grumbled. With that, the truck drove away, ignoring the poor man trotting after him.

“You’re just going to leave me?! ’Hide?! …Old buddy? Old pal?” 

* * *

In Hanger E, the air was heavy as Lennox climbed out of Ironhide’s cab. Looking around, he found all the Autobots were present, all of them sullen and tense. Sunstreaker and Sideswipe muttered to each other quietly, Mirage paced back and forth, and Smokescreen’s doorwings were flat on his back. Bulkhead sulked, unmoving as a mountain, but carefully cradled the two teenagers in his servos.

Both had red and puffy eyes, the teeangers curled in the giant’s palm. The man heard a sniffle that suspiciously sounded like Raf. Miko was by his side, rubbing his arm in comfort. Lennox spotted Arcee in the farthest corner, that distant look still in her optics. He wondered who she was more worried for: Bumblebee, her comrade, or Jack, her partner.

There had been a noticeable dent in morale since Bumblebee’s T-cog was stolen. Even with their numbers, being down a mech had crippled the Autobots’ advantage in the war. When Bumblebee went on a scouting mission only to confront Knock Out, it had ended with disaster—the Decepticons taking off with precious energon and the Autobots humiliated.

Then Ratchet offered his own T-cog. Lennox saw his logic behind the decision. As the only medic on Earth, Optimus could not risk sending the war veteran onto the frontlines, rather leaving Ratcet behind as tech support. No longer the center of the action, the old Autobot’s T-cog was not used as much as the energetic warrior. Furthermore, as they were both grounders, Bumblebee’s body was likely to accept the donation.

However, the humble scout refused. He couldn’t bear the thought of stealing another’s T-cog just to replace his own. That was why this had to work. If Ratchet could repair the decimated part, then the Autobots wouldn’t have to lose any of their fighters.

As Ironhide and Optimus transformed back into their bipedal modes, the NEST commander saw a flash of white in the corner of his eye.

“I… did what I could,” Ratchet reported solemnly as he stepped out of the medical wing, looking at his comrades grimly.

“Our scout could not have been in better hands, old friend,” Optimus assured, placing a warm servo on his medic’s shoulder.

From Bulkhead’s hands, Raf stirred. “C-can I see Bumblebee? Please?”

The old ‘Bot frowned and was quiet for a few moments, and Lennox expected him to refuse. Instead, Ratchet answered cautiously, “I think Bumblebee would appreciate seeing you. But I do not want too many visitors at once.”

He sent a pointed look at the others as he said the latter, and the Autobots bowed their heads in understanding. Raf scrambled from Bulkhead’s hand and trotted across the floor. He followed on Ratchet’s heels and the medic turned back inside the medbay. There were the slow, heavy thuds as Optimus trailed behind. After quick order to Epps to stay, Lennox joined the little group.

Bumblebee was on the same berth as before, but instead of bleeding and squirming, the Autobot was still, optics dark in stasis. Ratchet waited until his guests settled around the sedated patient, and then turned on protocols to online Bumblebee.

It was only a matter of moments before blue optics flickered online, and a long, low whine came out. The scout shifted, trying to rise into a sitting position.

“Bumblebee, easy,” Ratchet ordered, almost softly, but the Autobot ignored him.

The yellow Camaro swung his legs over the side of the berth, and with around groan-like buzz, he pushed himself on shaky legs. He swayed a little and there was a metallic groan as his pede stabilizers struggled to hold his weight. Optimus and Ratchet both flinched, braced to run to his aid.

“Please, recovery takes time,” Ratchet insisted, almost pleading with the restless youngling.

Bumblebee whirred, in what even Lennox could identify as defiance. The Autobot took a shaky step forward, but stayed upright. The ability to stand seemed to boost Bumblebee’s confidence. The scout flexed his limbs, waved his doorwings, and ruffled his plating. It almost reminded Lennox of a human stretching. Soon even Raf seemed to match his partner’s hopeful demeanor.

“You got this, ‘Bee!” the young teenager cheered.

Bumblebee curled his servos into fists. There was the sound of grinding gears and the plating across the Transformer’s body shifted. Lennox leaned forward and held his breath, waiting. Only for nothing to happen.

Gears growled in protest. Plating fell back into place. Bumblebee let out a pitiful whimper.

Immediately Lennox sighed and looked away in disappointment. Optimus frowned deeply. Ratchet slumped and shook his head, looking broken.

“What?” Raf cried. “What happened? I though you were able to fix it!”

“The damage was… severe,” Ratchet explained, his tone low and empty.

The teenager just shook his head in denial, raising his voice to a broken wail. “N-no, it can’t be! You _fixed_ it!”

“Raf,” Lennox cut in. He dared to take a step towards the boy, placing his hands on his shoulders. “Sometimes things don’t work out—”

“ _No_!” The harsh yell even had the lieutenant colonel flinching, not expecting such an outburst from the boy. “I can’t lose Bumblebee, too!”

Without warning, Raf ripped out of Lennox’s grip, sprinting over to his partner. The scout looked miserable, folding in on himself with dim optics. The teenager wouldn’t let him, pressing his little hands against the warm metal.

“Come on, ‘Bee! I _know_ you can do it!” Raf insisted. Bumblebee whined in reply. “Don’t talk like that! We need you! We _all_ need you! Jack needs you!” The boy sobbed at the name, reminded of the peril his friend was most likely in. “It was Jack that found your T-cog! It’s thanks to him we were able to get it back! And now we have to get him back! MECH is going to hurt him if we don’t!”

Lennox frowned at the words, and another hiccup came from Raf’s throat. The boy shook his head, as if trying to dispel the tears that trailed down his cheeks. He pounded his fists against Bumblebee’s pede, hard.

“So you _have_ to do this! You have to _transform_!”

Bumblebee looked down at his partner, letting out another soft whirr. With a sigh, Lennox moved to remove the distraught boy, only to pause when the Autobot shifted his weight. Optics bright with determination, Bumblebee balled his servos into tight fists.

Plating shifted as there was a terrible noise of struggling gears. Ratchet gasped and moved forward, only to stop when Optimus placed a patient servo on his friend’s chest. Understanding his leader’s silent order, the medic could only frown as Bumblebee tried to transform. Again and again and again.

Lennox shut his eyes, losing hope as he heard the protest of the Transformer’s systems over and over. He could only watch, as Bumblebee screamed in frustration. Then something happened.

Gears turned. Plating folded inwards. Tires protruded outwards. Doorwings flattened. The giant metal being shrunk.

In his place, was a bright, yellow Chevrolet Camaro LT, engine revving loudly.

At the first, Lennox didn’t even believe his eyes. He didn’t even believe the look of amazement on Optimus, or Ratchet _smiling_. No, it couldn’t be possible. That T-cog was ready for the scrapyard— It wasn’t until he heard an overjoyed cheer that broke him out of his shock.

“Yes! You did it! You did it!” Raf exclaimed, practically jumping up and down.

Bumblebee seemed just as excited, engine roaring with excitement as he drove circles around his charge. Tires screeching across the floor, throwing up smoke, but Lennox hardly minded. Not when they had their scout back.

Their scout, that a day ago was broken, unable to transform. Lennox’s smile fell to a frown.

“This was only possible because of Jack,” the man murmured lowly. “He sacrificed himself, to at least buy us some time.”

Just like Jonathan Darby. The boy was too much like his father. Even with the noise, he had forgotten how acute Cybertronians’ hearing was, as Optimus peered down at him.

“We will find a way to retrieve Jackson,” the Prime vowed.

“I just hope we find him before it is too late.”

The man’s morbid thoughts were interrupted by a sharp ring filling the air. The ex-Ranger naturally flinched, muscles tensing. Bumblebee skidded to a stop and Raf whirled around. Optimus and Ratchet glanced up. Then Lennox recognized the sound, coming from the medic’s station, and quickly forced himself to relax. Not an alarm.

A communication? But everyone was present on Diego Garcia. The research team had no reason to contact them, either, busy with their own projects.

“What is it?” Lennox demanded.

Ratchet hummed as he crossed over to the giant computer, optics narrowing. “Hmm, that’s odd. It’s a high-frequency signal… with an imbedded message.” Then his gaze widened. “For _me_?”

“Saying _what_?” Lennox marched over, trying to get a view of the screen, even though it was covered with alien script.

“‘I have information regarding... one of your pets,’” the medic read stiffly, pausing over the latter part of the sentence. “‘Bring medical kit. Come alone.’”

Immediately the lieutenant colonel’s chest tightened and the heavy air became thicker, as EM fields flared in distress and gasps sounded. Lennox repeated the message in his mind. “One of your pets”? Did that mean… the children?

He knew of the degrading term the Decepticons referred the Autobots’ partners, and the aliens had even began calling his soldiers as such. But Miko and Raf were already in Lennox’s custody. The only one of interest, especially by the ‘Cons, was…

“Jack?” Raf gasped. “S-someone knows where he is?”

The NEST commander frowned and filled his voice with authority. “Can you tell who it’s from?”

Certainly not MECH. They had no way of knowing the frequency to Ratchet’s comms, and if they did want to establish communication, they would have gone to Lennox, the commander in charge. Besides, they wouldn’t have requested for Ratchet, if they even knew he existed.

But a message from Megatron didn’t make any sense, either. The tyrant would far sooner destroy his enemies than ask for their help. Ratchet’s fingers flew over the keys, then let out a sharp gasp.

“It’s from… Starscream.” 

* * *

Jack awoke to darkness, alone. The cot was cold, the air biting against his skin. The boy shuddered. Why was it so cold? It was warm before…

Then the Jack flinched, as he remembered why. Silas. The MECH leader had come to check up on his prisoner, to torment him. Only for the army brat to collapse into his arms. The monster that had mocked him, tortured him, and Jack didn’t even fight. Didn’t even protest when the bastard _petted_ him.

 _What is wrong with me_?

The boy groaned, blinking as he tried to forced himself into a sitting position. He gritted his teeth, as he wrapped his arms around his middle. His body still ached with soreness, his limbs heavy. His stomach twisted painfully, his veins cold and itching. His thoughts drifted aimless. Jack could only focus on one trail of thought.

He hated this. He wanted to go home. He wanted this hell to end.

Of course, the universe denied him. Jack hissed as bright light suddenly filled the room, burning his eyes. Groaning, he forced his eyes to adjust. Not Silas. Immediately the boy stiffened, a heavy block of dread forming in his stomach.

Marcus.

There was only one reason why the man would visit him.

“I’m sorry about that, Jackie,” the torturer apologized, but the teenager knew the tone was not sincere. “Silas told me you’re not feeling good?”

The man spoke in a light, soft tone, like a fake friend. Jack narrowed his eyes and snarled.

“I don’t know what you are talking about, I feel great,” Jack retorted. “I see your sarcasm is as annoying as ever.”

Marcus crossed over the cot, and Jack felt himself shrinking back with each menacing step. But there was nowhere to go. Pressed against the wall and the torturer blocking the way to the only exit, he was hopelessly trapped. The boy tried, and failed, to suppress a shiver as the man looked over him.

Then he smiled, and Jack’s blood grew frigid. It was that cold, cruel grin, that appeared every single time the army brat screamed.

“You know what, I got something that will help feel better,” Marcus’s voice was sickly sweet. “How about a _bath_?”

“I’m going to say ‘no’ to that,” Jack replied automatically, even as his stomach knotted even tighter. He didn’t know what the torturer was talking about. He didn’t _want_ to know.

“Oh, come on, you’ll enjoy it.”

And before Jack could work up another protest, an icy hand wrapped around the back of his neck. He yelled at the iron grip, tried to jerk free as the hand pulled painfully. But his body was too weak, his limbs were too heavy, his muscles hurt too much. Jack growled as was dragged out of the cot by the scruff of his neck.

He tried to gain his footing on the floor, only for his knees to buckle underneath him. Strong arms wrapped around his middle, keeping him from collapsing.

“Easy, now,” Marcus chided, and yanked Jack to his feet.

One hand on his arms, the other wrapped around his chest, the boy have half-ushered, half-carried out of the room. They always made him walk, which was its own form of torture. It was like they were making him face his next punishment, like he had a _choice_. Sometimes when he refused—when he _couldn’t_ —walk, Marcus would force him to his feet or hit him until he complied. Jack’s captors did not bind him room-to-room, either, which was an insult itself. MECH obviously were not concerned that their prisoner could fight back.

Jack tried to pay attention where they were going, tried to memorize the route, but as always the blank walls always looked the same. Everything was a blur, and there were times the boy was convinced his captors always went a different way to confuse him.

Jack didn’t know how long they walked, and it was still far too soon when they came another door, made of steel and guarded by two sentries. That watched him with sadistic eyes. Instantly panic filled the boy’s chest as he realized what this was.

“ _No_!” he screamed, trying to yank out of Marcus’s grip.

He flailed and punched and kicked, but the MECH kept a firm hold on him. Over his screams, Jack faintly heard the squeal of the door opening and felt the pressure on his chest as the bastard dragged him further.

“Quit it!”

White flashed across his eyes as something struck Jack’s temple, hard. His head lolled with a moan, another wave of pain coursing through his body. He went limp in his captor’s hold, hoping at least the dead weight would hinder the tormenter.

Marcus said something, possibly to one of the other soldiers. Sure enough, the teenager screeched as a second pair of hands wrapping around his ankles. He wheezed as he was lifted into the air, his body hanging between the two men uncomfortably. Jack blinked rapidly, trying to focus his double vision and adjust to the gloom of the room.

It looked like the rest of the compound—dark and lifeless. Something black and inky flickered across Jack’s gaze. He blinked, thinking it was his imagination. He blinked a few times, realizing it was real. A large tub of water, taking up almost half of the cramped room, just like Marcus promised. Only his hair stood on end as frigid horror coursed through his body, as he saw white, jagged chunks floating across the surface.

 _Ice_.

“Nonononono!”

Like a fire was ignited inside him, Jack screamed as he renewed his struggles. He screeched and spat, writhing and flailing madly, but it do no use. The MECH agents kept their hold on him, carrying up and over. Marcus snapped something he did not hear.

Then a thousand needles dug into Jack’s skin. The boy’s shriek cut off, open still opened wide, as the air was ripped from his lungs. He could not even command his body to move—like it had completely disconnected from his mind. His body was lowered into the frigid water even more. Jack hiccupped.

Marcus laugh, cruel and sinister. “See? I told you that you’ll enjoy it.”

Jack remembered once, in Washington, his father had taken him hiking for an early spring trip. Some of the ponds were still frozen over, and after an entire winter of sliding across their surface, the little boy thought nothing of it. Dad’s frantic shout came too late—he had fallen straight through the ice with a scream. The Ranger had to pull the frozen boy from the water, holding him close, trying to warm him, as Jack wailed and cried for hours on end. Not from the cold. From the _pain_.

His skin _burned_ , icy fangs digging into his body, chilling him to the bone. Jack tried to force himself up, only he was pushed back down, hissing as his upper torso was swallowed up by the inky water. . His teeth chattered against his will. The teen tried to clench them together to keep them in place, but it only worsened.

“S-s-stop, p-p-please,” Jack forced out, even though that shred of logic that remained knew it was useless.

His tormenters only wanted to see him suffer, only laughed at his misery. They wouldn’t save him, they wouldn’t pull him from the waters that tried to drown him, they wouldn’t warm him. They weren’t Dad. Dad was not here.

A weird, quiet noise escaped Jack’s throat. “D-d-d-d-da—”

 “Put him under.”

Fingers twisted into his hair, and suddenly he was drowning. Jack let out a silent scream, but instead of airless gasp, a stream of bubbles escaped his mouth. Needles dug into inch of his face. It _hurt_!

The sensation seemed to last for eternity, then finally, air returned to his lungs. Jack hacked, his muscles burning in protest. His shivering seemed to increase tenfold. He gasped, trying to fill his lungs, but his captors denied him that luxury. The air was taken away, replaced by the inky water and icy fangs.

Jack wanted escape. He wanted it all to end. He wanted his father to pull him from the ice, tell him it was going to be okay. Tell him that he was _his_. For all of time.

Through burning frigidness, Jack felt the darkness stir, thirsty and violent. He wanted to collapse into it, fall into its embrace. He wanted to tear them all— _No, don’t give in._

Tentatively, he reached out, to _him_. He would protect him, right? Mega—

Jack brushed against a wall.

Immediately his heart, struggling to fight against the frigidness invading his body, seized. Nothing. There was nothing. No assurance, no protection, no escape. The army brat was alone, trapped in this hell. For all of time.

No one would help him.

Air returned to his lungs, and Jack screamed.


	14. What You Fear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back, baby! A longer chapter than normal to make up for the long delay. Next couple chapters are already partially written, and I have a pretty solid idea where I want the story to go. So be expecting the next update soon. :D

Jack shivered. His teeth chattered and his knees knocked together, no matter how tightly he held them. He was on his pitiful little cot, curled in a ball. His chest bare, and his captors hadn’t bothered to replace the shirt they tore away nor did they give him a blanket, leaving him exposed to the frigid air.

The army brat coughed, violently. His body convulsed and he wrapped his freezing arms around his middle. He didn’t know how long the coughing fit lasted, only that he was left even more sore. The boy ached to the bone, his limbs cemented to the mattress beneath him. His skin stung horribly, between the deep wounds littering his body and the phantom needles that continued to bite him.

Jack had not broken when they threw him in the ice bath, nor the three times after that. The army brat tried to put up a brave facade, tried to brace himself each time, and each time he failed. He screamed and screamed and screamed as the sharp sensations viciously assaulted his body, until his torturers got tired of listening to him and forced his head under the water. They were careful not to drown him, only silencing him for a few seconds at a time. But once Jack blacked out, only wake up to Marcus slapping his face.

Like they did after every session, they would drag him back to his cell and unceremoniously drop him on the floor. They did not bother to dry him off, leaving Jack wet and miserable for hours. The first time, the teenager merely trembled. The second, he began coughing. The third, Jack was left in this pitiful state.

How long had it been? Days? Weeks? It was impossible to tell. Even with the endless, sick routine, everything mixed together in a blur of agony.

Did anyone know where he was? Did anyone know he was _alive_? Jack tried to cling to the hope, that Miko and Raf escaped. But what if they didn’t? Or, what if they escaped, but couldn’t call for help? _Didn’t_ call for help?

They had left him before. Just like Arcee had left him. She hated him now. Jack remembered her bitter, broken tone when she said she never wanted to see him again. The boy did not blame her.

He had hurt her. His guardian, his partner, and instead of trying to fight for her, he fell into Megatron’s arms. Jack had betrayed the Autobots, he had betrayed mankind, by agreeing to play the warlord’s twisted game. Now the Decepticon would be bored of his pet, now that Jack failed his task. Megatron had probably already forgotten about him.

Maybe he deserved this. For all the horrible things he’d done, all the people he had hurt, this hell was his punishment. Jack wasn’t going to hold onto the illusion that he would escape, that someone would save him. He was going to die here. Abandoned, forgotten, and alone.

Jack’s eyes stung, a watery film covering over his vision. He quickly shut them tight. No, he couldn’t cry. He couldn’t let them know. He couldn’t break. He had to be strong. Soldiers don’t cry—

Suddenly a cold hand laid across his shoulder, ripping him from his thoughts. Jack jolted with a gasp, realizing who it was. Nonono—

“P-p-p-please,” he begged through the shivers. “I c-can’t, I _can’t._ Please l-leave m-m-me alooone.”

Instead of Marcus’s sadistic chuckle, there was another voice, soft and careful.

“It’s alright, Jack,” DiBiase whispered. The teen only shivered more with a keen, flinching away. The doctor blinked, as if surprised by his reaction, and then his eyes narrowed to a glare. He turned another figure standing at the door. “What are you trying to do?! Give him hypothermia?!”

Marcus looked bored, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed across his chest.

“If it helps,” the torturer shrugged.

“Are you crazy, or are you just stupid? How is he supposed to help our research if he loses his extremities to frostbite? Or if his brain shuts down?”

Before the guard could reply, DiBiase turned back to Jack’s hunched form. The teenager instinctively flinched when the frigid hand laid across his brow. There was an infuriated hiss.

“He’s burning up,” the surgeon gasped.

Hesitant and gentle, DiBiase turned Jack onto his back, coaxing his balled up body to straighten out. Only for the physician let out another seethe at the angry red gashes along his abdomen, tainted with a sickly, yellow tint.

“And you exposed him to water before his wounds properly healed?” the surgeon cried. “Do you know how much damage that can do to an injury like this?”

Marcus didn’t seem phased, his black eyes lacking empathy as he failed to digest DiBiase’s panic at all.

“I think you forget why he’s in here, doc,” the monster only retorted. “It’s your job to fix him so we can break him again.”

Jack flinched at the cruel statement, but DiBiase didn’t notice as he whirled around to face the other man again.

“It’s my job to keep him _alive_!” he shouted. “Now thanks to your incompetence, he has an infection that’s just going to get worse if I don’t treat it.”

The doctor looked back to Jack, taking in the sight of the shivering boy. He wore that torn expression again, lips pulled in a frown and eyes narrowed. Then DiBiase swallowed, placing his arm around Jack’s shoulders. With a murmur of encouragement, the physician pulled him into a sitting position. The boy wheezed as a fresh wave of pain coursed through him, but managed to stay upright.

“What are you doing?” Marcus demanded, narrowing his eyes.

“I’m taking him to the medical wing,” DiBiase informed, not even looking at his associate as he swung Jack’s legs over the side of the bed. “He needs proper treatment.”

“If Silas—”

“Wants his subject alive, he’s coming with me.” DiBiase gently took Jack’s arms, meeting his gaze. He spoke softly, so that only the boy could hear, “Can you walk?”

The teen’s muscles screamed with protest, and his mind rejected the idea of going anywhere with the traitor. Despite that, he nodded numbly, hands clasping around the man’s wrists. Working together, Jack trembled as he forced himself to his feet as DiBiase pulled. Pain coursed through his legs as his knees quivered, but he stayed upright.

He took a shaky step, then another and another. DiBiase gently guided him for a few paces, and Jack found himself leaning against the man for support. Marcus narrowed his eyes further into a glare, but when DiBiase returned it with his own, the torturer stepped to the side. It was the first time, in a long time, that Jack stepped out of the cell without the promise of pain. 

* * *

Jack didn’t know what happened after DiBiase took him from his cell. Everything after that went by as a blur. Bright light and dark shadows passed over his vision. Soft touches and sharp pricks pressed against his skin.

His body felt heavy, like someone had sapped all the strength from his muscles. His mind was in a fog, unable to complete a single thought without moving on to the next. A rough blanket was wrapped around him, tight, but he couldn’t stop shivering. Everything was so _cold_.

The teenager slipped in and out of unconscious. He fell asleep when a numbing sensation spread across his limbs, but only for a burst of tremors to wake him up. Jack heard voices. One was deep and unnerving, while the other was cool and oddly familiar. Both sounded annoyed, hostile, but the boy couldn’t decipher what they were saying. He could only pick up snippets.

“—enough for a dosage, maybe two.”

“—you _insane_?!” Jack faded into unconscious, only for a yell to immediately bring him back to senseless wakefulness. “—rgon did this to him!”

A harsh tone, loud and vicious. “—ant results? –expert or not? _Do it_.”

Pain pulsed behind the teen’s eyes. He wanted to tell them to shut up, to leave him alone. He wanted to go home, with his friends, his family. He wanted _her_ , to tell him everything was going to be okay, that she wouldn’t let anything happen to him. Jack wanted _him,_ to end the nightmare.

The miserable boy forced his eyes open, but his eyelids were impossibly heavy. Only when he did, he was greeted with a blinding light and the pain flared. He squinted his eyes with a groan. He tried to flinch, but he couldn’t move. Instead, he could only stare at the pair of silhouettes standing above him. He meet uncertain eyes and a cold, hard gaze.

Then there was a prick on his arm, the needle sliding under his skin and into his vein. It was then the frigidness vanished, replaced by _scorching_ heat. It felt like every nerve in his body was on fire, burning him from the inside out, as wave after wave of fresh agony washed over him.

Jack heard a distant, high-pitched screech. Through the haze, it took him several long seconds to realize it was _him_. The flame, the all-consuming darkness, coursed through his veins, burying into his heart. It was then the poor boy felt something twist in a horrible way, something deep. He didn’t know what it was, only that the _thing_ stirred restlessly, like a bear disturbed from its slumber.

And then it was gone.

The raw heat and the searing agony vanished.

As soon as the violent attack had begun, it was over. Jack was no longer shivering, only heaving desperately, trying to refill his empty lungs. His throat was sore, adding to his misery. A layer of sticky sweat covered his skin, making him feel hot and uncomfortable. With a broken moan, the teenager tried to open his eyes once again, only to be greeted with a large, pale hand moving over his vision. A warm palm pressed against his brow, only to confirm it was clammy and cool.

“His fever broke.” 

* * *

Jack must have passed out, because the next time he became aware, he felt heavy. It was hard to open his eyes, and only when he did, harsh white light greeted him. He hissed and shut his eyes. When did the light turn on? Usually his captors left it off, leaving him in blackness. Only DiBiase bothered to turn on the overhead light when he looked over the boy’s injuries. Was he here?

The military brat turned his head to the side, but it was difficult to do even that. His body felt strange. He felt warm—too warm—with a tingling sensation rolling over his skin. It wasn’t pain, but it wasn’t numbness, either, yet his limbs felt like they were made of lead. There was soft plush around him, keeping him in a cocoon of warmth.

A bed? That wasn’t right. The only thing he had to sleep on was a hard mattress of a cot. It was then Jack became aware of a pungent smell, like disinfectant. It oddly reminded him of the hospital when he visited Mom. Not his cell.

What? With a groan, the teen gritted his teeth and tried to open his eyes again. He had to blink his heavy eyelids several times, but eventually he adjusted to the fluorescent light above him. Definitely not his cell. Then where was he? Jack felt a flicker of hope. Maybe the ‘Bots found him, he was safe—

The naïve moment vanished when the army brat shifted his limbs, only to hearing a clinking sound, one he heard before. It was then he became aware of the metal bands biting into his skin, and his heart grew cold. Jack forced his head up, the muscles of his neck straining with effort. Sure enough, he saw steel cuffs bound around his wrists, attached to the railings of the bed.

He was still a prisoner of MECH. No one had come for him.

Jack let out a quivering breath, and his eyes stung for another reason. He should have known better. It was stupid to think that there was someone that cared enough to search for him. The Autobots had rescued him before, but he didn’t expect for the same miracle to happen. Especially now that Arcee hated him.

The poor boy swallowed thickly, forcing down tears. Opening his eyes, he scanned his surroundings. It wasn’t a hospital room. It looked like a clinic of some sort. He was in a wide room, filled with carts of surgical tools and hanging, flimsy sheets for semi-privacy. On the other side of the space, Jack spied a pair of feet on a makeshift hospital bed like he was. It was eerily quiet, not even the beeping of a heart monitor. Either his captors didn’t want to waste one on him, or they didn’t have the money for one. Jack didn’t put either past them.

His observations were interrupted when suddenly the metal door to the room swung open with squealing hinges and boots clacked against the tiled floor. Instantly the boy shrunk at the hulking form of Silas. As if his misery couldn’t get any worse. Then MECH leader noticed Jack, awake and looking about.

Silas’s tone was as fake as ever as he asked, “How are you feeling, Jack?”

Disoriented and his mind in a fog, it took a few seconds for Jack to think of reply. “Better until you walked in.”

“I see Marcus wasn’t able to beat that annoying sass out of you.”

Jack inwardly flinched at the mention of his torturer, but he kept his brave facade, mocking, “You sound disappointed.”

Silas merely huffed and crossed the room in a few strides. Jack found himself leaning back further and further with each step, only to realize there was nowhere for him to go. Weak and chained to a bed, he was trapped. The teen could only snarl pitifully when the extremist loomed over him.

Silas raised a hand. Jack winced.

Classically conditioned, he braced for the blow and the resulting pain, but it never came. Fingers pressed against his cheek. The touch was firm, yet gentle, but the army brat flinched away like it was acid.

“Your fever’s still down at least,” Silas observed, thankfully pulling his hand away.

“What?”

The MECH leader ignored him, instead seizing a corner of the blanket laid over him and pulled it back. Jack hissed through his teeth as the warm layer was removed, exposing his skin to the cool air. Suddenly those cold fingers returned, this time tracing the pink scars across his stomach. Jack spasmed in reflex.

“Get away from me!” he snarled, pulling at the cuffs, but the metal only dug deeper into his wrists.

Silas didn’t react to the outburst, wearing that guarded mask, but he pulled his hand away. “Fascinating. Once you had that seizure, here I was thinking you were a goner, but all the signs of infection are gone. Everything’s even healed up, too.”

While Jack just squinted in confusion, the man looked up with an odd look in his eyes. It made the boy’s skin crawl. It was then he registered his captor’s words. Wait… _seizure_?

“I had a s-seizure?” he gaped. “H-how?”

He wasn’t that injured, was he? Or did the constant torment finally break something in his body, interfered with something sensitive in his brain? Jack wasn’t really sure what caused a seizure, but he knew it had something to do with a malfunctioning nervous system, and it wasn’t good.

Silas seemed to ignore his growing panic, explaining nonchalantly, “At first, it seemed your body was rejecting the donation, but then it changed its mind.”

Jack only blinked, the madman’s words making no sense. Rejected? Donation? What was he talking about?

“Donation of _what_?” he demanded.

His voice was horribly hoarse, so it wasn’t as harsh as he wanted it to be, and Silas only scoffed in amusement.

“I’ll be honest, brat, I really thought you were bullshitting me when you explained that dark energon ordeal,” the MECH leader drawled as he finally moved away from Jack’s side, only to start pacing before the bed. “But it only took a matter of seconds for it to acclimate to your body…”

The teen shook his head, completely lost. It was hard to listen to Silas’s rambling, and it was even harder to process it. Jack didn’t know if it was because of the trauma or the drugs. They would always give him an injection between or during sessions, and it was always something different. An anesthetic or a sedative to keep him quiet, or something to amplify the pain or truth serum to make him scream louder. Once they had given him a shot of pure adrenaline, and he thought his heart was going to explode. Was that what Silas was talking about? Had they dosed him with another vile drug?

“What… what did you do to me?” he demanded, but it came out as a weak, frail murmur, horror rising in his chest.

Silas finally turned back to him, looking over his shoulder with that twisted sneer. That odd look was back. Was that… fascination? No, it was too _intense_ , but Jack did not dare describe it as lust. It was something worse.

It was then Silas pulled something out of his pocket, nonchalantly tossing it in Jack’s direction and the boy felt a light weight on his lap. Squinting in confusion, he glanced down, only to be greeted with an obsidian chain. Both ends looked like they had been snapped, as if it had been connected to form a loop. Jack knew it had been, just like he knew what it was.

His _necklace_. The one Megatron had left him for his birthday.

“H-how…” Jack stuttered, and he had to try a couple times before he managed to demand, “How did you get this?”

“Picked it up in Paris,” Silas replied. “Not too far from where we found that alien pod.”

 _What_ — _When_ ―

Jack could only latch onto a single word. _Paris_. Then through the fog in his mind, he remembered. Ravage. The cassette had pounced on him, trying to get the spark extractor, and then when Jack had escaped, he had only bumped face-first into Ratbat. Had the necklace broken off sometime during the chaos?

But he would have noticed that, right? He surely did not want to tell Megatron he _lost_ it. But then he realized. Everything had been a frantic blur since the Battle of Paris. Jack had been so busy trying to shove down the intrusive thoughts, shut out the blood-bond, he didn’t allow himself to _think_ about Megatron. Or the necklace Now he regretted it.

MECH had it. They took it. They _stole_ it.

Then looking down at the ebony chain, Jack realized there was something _wrong_. The shard of dark energon. It was _gone._

“The crystal!” he gasped. He sent a scathing glare in Silas’s direction. “It—it had a crystal. What did you do with it?”

He waved a dismissive hand in Jack’s direction, as if the boy had been asking an obvious question.

“I’ll give you three guesses,” Silas mocked.

Jack gritted his teeth, tired of the madman’s mind games. It was hard enough to focus on his surroundings. It didn’t help that his limbs stayed pinned to the mattress, with unnatural warmth spreading through his veins. Jack hadn’t felt like this since—

He stiffened.

“No…”

It was a low, inaudible breath of denial. _No_. MECH couldn’t have—they _couldn’t_.

“For someone who throws a fit about your _… condition_ ,” Silas’s words cut through. “You don’t seem to mind carrying a shard of radioactive poison around your neck.”

Jack didn’t want to believe it. He refused to believe it. But the darkness stirring in his heart said otherwise. The dark energon, the shard, the pendent, had been melted down and it was _in_ him. Only one word could process.

“ _How_?”

“I’ll say one thing about that rambling tin can, Star-scream: he helped us a great deal in understanding Transformers. Including how to refine their fuel source. En-er-gon, I believe you call it?” It was then the MECH leader’s nasty smile widened. “It even works for _dark_ energon.”

Jack trembled with rage, baring his fangs. Megatron had given the shard to _him_. Regardless of what ulterior motive the Decepticon lord may have had, Silas had no right to it.

“Then why bother injecting me with it?” the boy spat. “You already know I’m immune to it.”

“A theory that needed to be tested,” Silas retorted. “All we had was your word for it.”

“So you just spiked me with it, because, what—you wanted to test my bluff?”

“To see if it would _heal_ you.”

Jack stiffened. No, they couldn’t have— The boy opened his mouth to refute the madman, to protest, but looking into those triumphant eyes, he realized. They _knew_.

How many times had DiBiase treated his wounds, only for them to vanish the next day? Jack had hoped the fresh injuries would distract the doctor, that his curious hums were merely done in thought. That Silas would think of nothing of the pink, healing scars. The teen should have realized there was no hope here.

“Incredible,” Silas breathed. Jack swallowed thickly and looked away, hearing the falls of heavy boots as the extremist continued his pacing. “I must say, you’ve been a great contribution to our research, brat. Soon, our Project Chimera will reach its final phases.”

“You haven’t even told me what this Project Chimera _is,”_ Jack retorted. “What is all of this _for_? Why use me? Why—“ The poor boy had to swallow to find the will to say the words. “Why _torture_ me, stitch me up, just to do it over all again?” He narrowed his eyes to a hateful glare. “Is it even for ‘science’ anymore? Or do you hate me that much?”

The army brat didn’t expect Silas to pause at that, giving him a long, considering look. Finally—

“A little bit of both, I suppose.”

Even though Jack suspected as such, to hear the words, _confirming_ it—it made his blood boil. He clenched his fists so tightly that his nails dug into his skin, trying to control his trembling limbs.

“So that’s what this is really all about?” the prisoner spat. “You don’t care about your ‘research.’ You just want to tear me apart, like the rest of the world. You would watch it _burn,_ so everyone would suffer just like _you_.”

_“I can make you suffer in ways you will not believe.”_

“Oh, _please_ ,” Silas scoffed. “MECH doesn’t even need to work to destroy the planet. Humanity is doing that just fine by itself. Just look at what happened to your father—your _uncle_.”

Whatever retort that was on Jack’s tongue died at that as his heart stopped. His uncle. General David Darby. The boy didn’t remember much of him. In fact, the only images he had of the man was from pictures.

But he remembered that dark day. His uncle was not supposed to be there. The Pentagon was under reconstruction, and the entire wing was closed. But he had gone to his office, either for some minor thing or to find out why New York City was burning. No one expected the military headquarters to be next. General Darby did not survive.

It was the only time Jack had seen his father cry.

The army brat grinded his teeth and looked down at his lap. Silas took his silence as confirmation, and jumped on it like a lion on a gazelle.

 “You know _exactly_ what I’m talking about.” Silas continued his pacing, taking on a tone akin to Jack’s teachers when lecturing, “Increased rate of non-conventional warfare, increased causality rate, increased economic crisis, crime, pollution, global warming—we are a generation away from seeing to our own demise. The Earth has seen five mass extinctions, and we are currently in the _sixth_.”

“All MECH does is make things _worse_ ,” Jack snarled.

 “On the contrary.” Silas paused his pacing to look back at his prisoner. “We will offer a solution to this problem. Now thanks to the technology of the Transformers—and _you_ —we can now make that dream a reality.”

“Must be real convenient for you to take out the people that pissed you off along the way.”

The MECH leader’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t give Jack the satisfaction of a true reaction. “Government regulations are merely an obstacle in battle to overcome. With them out of the way, we will be able to mass produce _thousands_ of living robots to fight for us. With their technology, we could change the world. And humanity? We will never be the same.”

Silas broke off with a dark chuckle. His words became more and more powerful with each word, his voice filled with an almost husky tone. It only made Jack’s skin crawl, as each sentence sounded madder than the last. Especially since he knew what this was leading up to.

“Let me go out on a limb: you’re going to accomplish that with dark energon,” the boy growled.

“If it can do to others what it can do to you, it will be the key to unlocking our _evolution_.” That nasty smile returned, dark lust filling the madman’s gaze. “Starting with those that serve under MECH.”

The crawl turned to outright revulsion, and Jack shuddered. That crazed expression, that obsessive ambition—the teenager wondered if this is what Megatron was like, when he murdered the High Council, starting the Great War. The warlord had sought to conquer Cybertron, only to have it destroyed.

But Silas wasn’t Megatron. He was something worse.

For a long moment, Jack was lost for words. He couldn’t even process the extremist’s speech, never mind fathom such an idea.

Instead, his mind refused to accept it, instead spitting out, “That’s _insane_ , Silas.”

“No, it’s _possible._ ” While Jack could only stare, the ex-SEAL went on simply, “However, not if you die before we get the proper results. I could send you back to Marcus, but you’ll just get weaker and weaker until your body gives out.”

The prisoner couldn’t help but flinch. He tightened his fists and swallowed, biting back any protest, any emotion. He watch wearily as Silas turned, nearing him in slow, dangerous strides.

“We know the dark energon in your body reacts to stress, but obviously we are inducing the wrong kind. So, tell me, brat—” Without warning, Silas reached out, grasping Jack’s chin. He winced at the strong grip, instinctively pulling away, but the MECH leader merely tightened his hold. He tilted the teen’s head so the youth could only stare into those cruel, black eyes. “—What do you fear the most?”

Jack didn’t know how to respond. Silas had said it so calmly, so _casually_ , and it turned his blood cold.  Like he did not ask something so secret, so _intimate_. Jack had a list of fears, but he wasn’t about to tell any of them to his captor. Only one being in the universe knew them all.

It took a few seconds, but finally Jack forced his head to tilt into Silas’s hand, putting a fake smile on his lips.

“Any kind of doll. Saw _Chucky_ when I was a kid and it scarred me for life—GAH!”

Jack’s mocking tone was cut off with a pained grunt as suddenly a solid fist slammed into his temple. White flashed across his vision and his neck snapped painfully to the side. At least the grip was no longer on his neck.

“Say your little jokes,” Silas hissed lowly, stepping away with a disgusted sneer. “Let’s see how long your sense of humor lasts. GUARDS!”

Jack was blinking, dazed, but he managed to see the door swing open and two armored agents step in. With a jerk of the head from Silas, the pair neared the bed, one settling on either side. The teen tensed as they unfastened his cuffs, already pulling at his arms to move him into a sitting position. Together, the guards roughly yanked him from the bed, keeping a relentless hold on him the entire time.

Only when Jack’s feet met the cold floor, his knees buckled. The agents caught him before he crumpled to the ground, holding him steady even as he hissed and flailed like a rabid animal. But his attempts were too weak and his captors were too strong. They half-carried, half-dragged him out of the medical bay, a stern Silas close behind.

Once again, the teenager tried to map out a route as they took him through the building, but everything was so fuzzy. It seemed like eternity had passed, walking through the same lifeless halls he dreaded, before they came to a door. When did Silas move in front?

The MECH leader opened the door and Jack dug his heels in. He snarled aggressively at his captors, even as his heart hammered in his chest, terrified what they had in store for him this time. Another beating? Another bath? He couldn’t tell, and he didn’t like that Silas was here. He _never_ oversaw Jack’s sessions.

Jack tried to summon whatever strength was left in his body, pushing against his captors. But it was no use. The burly soldiers easily shoved him inside, and the boy whimpered. Instinctively, he took in his surroundings, only to find a plain, barren room. At least there were no torture devices, but that didn’t make him feel any better. In fact, it only made him more anxious.

“Do you want to go home, Jack?”

The question caught him off guard. He blinked in confusion, glancing at a circling Silas. The teen swallowed, knowing lying would be pointless.

“Yes,” he answered, unable to keep the desperation and longing from his voice.

The madman stepped forward, and Jack braced. Instead of a brutal slap, there was a brush of fingers across his brow. He shuddered as the extremist took a lock of his raven hair, brushing it aside. Jack flinched as he felt hot breath on his neck, and a low murmur in his ear.

“Then I will let you go,” Silas purred, like it was a promise he would keep. “You will never see me again. You can be with your friends, your family. Your mother must be worried sick about you…”

Jack’s stomach twisted. _Mom_. Did she even know where he was? What was happening? The teenager wished she didn’t. She didn’t deserve to suffer, knowing her son was trapped inside a hell, and helpless to save him.

The army brat shut his eyes tight, trying to block out Silas, the agents holding him, his mother’s smile. MECH had already hurt her once. He couldn’t let them do it again.

“L-leave her alone,” he whispered, pleading.

“Then tell me about the dark energon. _Everything_. Tell me how to control it.”

“…I-I don’t _know_.”

Jack didn’t think Silas would believe him if he explained his blood-bond with Megatron, and he was telling the truth, anyway. He still didn’t understand how it worked, how the warlord’s will and bloodlust bled through the connection. He tried to look passive, clueless even, as Silas’s dagger-like glare bore right into him, as if trying to pierce through his skin and peer into his soul. However, it seemed the MECH leader didn’t find anything.

He released his hold on his capture, spinning around as he growled dangerously, “Have it your way.”

Silas stormed to the center of the room, and Jack’s confusion only grew as he noticed a metal sheet laying across the floor. What was that? Was that a handle? The madman pulled on it, and the sheet rose with a rusty squeak.

Jack’s heart stopped. His knees buckled, but the guards’ cruel hold kept him from crumpling to a limp heap.

At first he was a greeted with a dark abyss, but his brain quickly translated what it was. Dug into the ground was a hole—no, a _pit_. Just wide enough to fit a single human, and deep enough to lay down in and no more, but difficult to quickly climb out of. Jack realized what this was, and his claustrophobia seized him in a vice grip.

“No…” he murmured inaudible whisper, only for the single word to repeat itself, as it was the only thing he could process. “No, no, no, nonono _no_!”

His fight instinct flared like a wildfire. Somehow Jack found his footing. He flailed, kicked, punched, and bit against his captors, screaming at the top of his lungs.

“ _Let me go! Let me go!”_

“Bring him here,” Silas ordered, his voice cold.

The MECH agents followed their leader’s order, forcing the panicking boy towards the pit. Jack’s chest became tighter and tighter with each step, the walls closing in around him—suffocating, constricting, _dark_.

 _Trapped_.

“Stop!” Jack wailed.

“What’s wrong, Jack? You’re not _afraid_ , are you?”

“Please! Please, don’t do this!”

“Then give me what I want.”

Silas’s cruel tone increased Jack’s shivering. The guards had paused at the edge of the pit, and the boy had to use all his willpower not to look down. He glanced up at the MECH leader, but his face was dark as ever.

“It just happens! I don’t know _how_! I don’t know how it works! I don’t know what you want!”

Jack was rambling, as fast as he could manage, but Silas didn’t seem to take in a word.

“You’re lying,” the extremist snarled.

“I _swear,_ Silas!”

The MECH leader’s expression remained impassive, merely regarding his prisoner. By now Jack was heaving, panting from his frantic flails and on the edge of hyperventilating. For a short, naïve moment, the teenager thought the man would finally see reason, and believe him. Then—

“Drop him.”

The guards wasted no time, both roughly shoving the prisoner forward. Jack couldn’t even work up a protest, letting out a screech as gravity dragged him down. It wasn’t a long fall, but it _hurt_. His shoulder slammed onto solid concrete brutality, and it exploded with pain, still sore from his recent beatings.

Adrenaline racing through his veins, Jack thrashed, still screaming, “ _NO_! Please, Silas, _please_!”

His desperate, panicked, _fearful_ pleas fell on deaf ears. Silas looked down at him, devoid of emotion, hands tucked behind his back. The guards shifted beside him, moving faster than Jack could scramble.

“ _SILAS!”_

And the metal sheet slammed down above him, blocking out the world, the sun, the light, beyond.

The mines of Kaon closed in around him.

 


	15. Partners

Arcee stepped out of the swirling vortex of the groundbridge with Ratchet by her side, medkit in servo. She paused for a moment, allowing her scanners and navigation system to reset. When they did, she immediately reverted to old instincts, analyzing every detail of her surroundings.

Tall, guarding trees of a forest towered over them and lush, green grass crunched between their pedes. The terrain rose and fell in gentle hills, preventing the Autobot from observing the entire landscape for possible threats. However, she was able to spot a lake not too far away, its waters glittering in the moonlight. It was a full moon tonight, casting a pale glow over the darkened realm.

The night was calm, peaceful, with only the sound of a breath of wind and a call of a distant owl. It put Arcee on edge. She kept her gaze sharp and her scanners alert, placing her battle protocols on standby. Starscream was known for his traps.

The Autobots did not fail to notice that Air Commander had been absent from the Decepticon ranks. Considering he was about to be executed the last time Arcee saw him, she wasn’t surprised. She briefly remembered the Seeker had attempted to escape during the chaos of the mines. With everything that had happened since that day, the femme honestly gave Starscream’s fate very little thought. She had hoped he had perished in the mine collapse or Megatron finally decided to deal with his treacherous second-in-command once and for all.

Now he was back. No one had any explanation why the Seeker was hailing Ratchet’s emergency frequency, asking for  _ their  _ help. Jack would have a comment, something witty or sarcastic that would make Arcee roll her optics in amusement. Occasionally a huff of laughter—

The Autobot shoved down that train of thought. Jack wasn’t here. MECH had him. They  _ stole  _ him.

Because she was not there to protect him. Because Arcee had turned her back on her charge. Now, she had to face the consequences of her selfish actions.

“Over there,” Ratchet murmured, breaking her from her dark thoughts. The femme pivoted her helm, and sure enough, she saw who they came here for.

The fearsome, treacherous, murderous Starscream, Air Commander of Vos and second-in-command of the Decepticons, looked  _ pitiful _ .

The silver Seeker lay limp against a stone boulder, curled in on himself. His wings pressed against his back, his helm low, and his usually bright red optics were dim. His long talons were wrapped around his middle, with blue, precious energon spilling between his fingers. He had been leaking for a while, as a pool of his own blood stained the ground beneath him. Arcee could hear the wheezing of vents, trying to expel heated air from his overtaxed systems. 

The groundbridge snapped closed behind the pair, to prevent Starscream—or any  _ other _ un-welcomed party—from infiltrating the base. At the sharp sound, the Seeker tilted his helm up. His optics flashed briefly, either with surprise or relief at seeing the red and white medic. Only when he noticed Arcee glaring down at him, the look was replaced by a vicious snarl.

“I told you to come alone!” Starscream shrieked.

Arcee ignored his comment. As if they would listen to  _ him _ .

“Starscream,” she greeted coolly. “How the mighty have fallen.”

The ex-Decepticon’s snarl widened with a growl. The femme knew it was a low blow. Seekers were known for pride—or rather, their  _ arrogance _ . They did not fail to boast they were the most elite flyers of Cybertron, possessed the most elite air force. And so it was natural to come to the conclusion that the Air Commander, the head of that military, was the most powerful individual in Vos—perhaps one of the most powerful individuals of Cybertron. A position, that Starscream coveted.

Arcee had never been to Vos before the War. She had only heard rumors and old tales. Starscream was a fair leader--he kept his people happy and kept the peace. However, his political rivals thought otherwise. As far as the story went, there was no bloodshed. The coup was over as quickly as it started, when the mutineers raided the Seeker Towers and forced Starscream to his knees.

Most likely out of self-preservation more than anything, the Air Commander relinquished his title. But the usurpers couldn’t terminate him, not without attracting the attention of the High Council. They would have to declare Vos in a state of rebellion, and send the Elite Guard to restore order, and likely return Starscream to his self-made throne.

So they exiled the disgraced military leader to a lonely space station in Cybertron’s orbit, leaving him to rust in humiliation and bitterness. That was where Megatron picked him up. Starscream only became the Champion’s right-hand mech because of his military experience, and the promise to bring half of Vos’s population to the Decepticon cause.

The Decepticon chain of command had been in chaos ever since.

But Arcee had not come just to settle old scores with the traitor. Her gaze hardened to a deadly glare. Battle protocols came online.

“Where is Jack?” she demanded, her blades ejecting from her arms.

“Patch me up and perhaps I’ll tell you,” Starscream retorted, a sneer crossing his dermas.

Ratchet cocked an optic ridge at Arcee, who merely scoffed with disgust. “Perhaps we’ll just leave you as you are.”

“Oh, have sympathy! I’m leaking here!”

“Then speak quickly,” Arcee growled. She stepped forward, brandishing her blades in front of the wounded flyer’s face. “Where. Is. Jack?”

Starscream recoiled, and panic flashed before his optics. Realizing the only leverage he had was being ripped away and being thrown right back at him. Finally he conceded with a hiss.

“Fine. Fine!” he spat, before lowering his voice, as if he was telling a secret, “It seems your beloved  _ pet  _ as been stolen… by MECH.”

Ratchet huffed. “Tell us something we are not aware of.”

Starscream’s optics went wide and bright, as if he really thought he had one up on the Autobots. “You already  _ know _ ?”

“You wouldn’t go through the trouble of calling me here unless you had information to trade,” Ratchet growled, his expression stern. “ _ Real  _ information.”

“A base!” the Seeker exclaimed, no doubt spitting out the first thing that came to his processor. “MECH had a base. Near here.”

“We already raided it. They’re long gone.  _ With  _ Jack.”

“ _ Ooohhh _ !” Arcee couldn’t tell if the wail was out of pain or frustration or both. “Are you  _ joking _ ?”

The femme rolled her eyes. She should have known, that this was just another one of Starscream’s ploys. He sought his own gain, by any means necessary. This was not a fair trade, but rather a greedy Seeker hoping to take advantage of the desperate Autobots.

“Come on, Ratchet, let’s go. We’re wasting time here,” she decided, deactivating her weapons and promptly turning on her heels. With a grunt, the old medic followed. She heard a panicked squawk behind her.

“Wait! You can’t just leave me like this!” Starscream wailed.

Arcee spared him a single glance. “Unless you offer something  _ useful _ , we have nothing to discuss.”

She could practically  _ see  _ the former Decepticon swiping out desperately at any scheme that came to mind, taking whatever his claws sunk into first.

“MECH is building something,” Starscream pulled. “Never had I see something so vile, so inconceivable, even  _ I  _ am revolted—”

“They are constructing an artificial Cybertronian,” Ratchet finished in a flat tone.

The Seeker’s optics went impossibly wide. “ _ What _ ? How could you possibly know  _ that _ ?”

“We found the remains in their base. Apparently MECH could not salvage anything from their project.”

“ _ Salvage?  _ They don’t need to salvage anything! They already have another one!”

Both Autobots froze at that, gears locking into place and hydraulic fluid stopped flowing. Arcee thought she heard him wrong. She  _ wished  _ she heard him wrong. MECH had…  _ another _ abomination? How was that even possible?

She stared at Starscream, trying to find the tiniest flaw that revealed the former Air Commander was lying. Instead, she was greeted with a wide, satisfied sneer, as the leech realized the negotiations had returned to his favor.

The Seeker let out a dark chuckle, and slowly removed his servos from his torso, revealing a nasty, deep wound, energon still flowing from it. “It hurts most right here, doctor…”

Ratchet narrowed his optics, no doubt not inclined to trust the treacherous snake any more than Arcee. However, as a medic, he had made a vow to help any mech that could not help themselves, whether they be Autobot or Decepticon. A vow that not even the hardened war veteran could bring himself to break.

With an inscrutable expression, Ratchet slowly and cautiously neared Starscream. Arcee instantly activated her blasters and lifted them, not aiming them at the injured mech, but kept them in plain view. The Seeker’s grin merely widened. He shifted, but instead of attacking the pair, he unfurled with a grunt so that Ratchet could have better access to his wound. In the same location as Bumblebee’s only a matter of days before.

Ratchet must have come to the same conclusion, as he asked, “Can you transform?”

It took a while for Starscream to reply, and he didn’t look in their direction as he answered, “No.”

The medic merely nodded, analyzing the injury with a detached look. He knelt beside his patient and began going through his tools. Starscream had no reason to lie about such a thing. The wretched state of his frame was proof enough. Mud and grime stained the Seeker’s once shiny silver armor, with a variety of scratches and dents. When he shifted, he exposed a wing, revealing scorch marks across the appendage, no doubt leading to his back. Like he took the brunt of an explosion—

Arcee stalled.

_ Wait _ .

“Starscream,” she spoke up, keeping her voice cold.

“Hmm?”

“How did this happen to you?”

Ratchet was focusing on welding Starscream’s plating, but the femme noticed his finials perking up in interest. His patient let out a snarl.

“How do you  _ think _ ?” he spat. “Ever since I was cruelly  _ abandoned _ by my master, I have been scouring this planet for meager scraps of energon. I attempted to take some from MECH, whom seem to have plenty of the stuff, only to be fired upon, and—and  _ violated _ !”

He ended his rant in a spark-broken wail, one that Arcee couldn’t tell was genuine or not. It would have certainly worked on anyone that was stupid. However, the femme didn’t fall for the act.

“If they were attacking you, then how do you know MECH has Jack? How do you know their plans?”

Ratchet paused and Starscream faltered. The liar recovered quickly, but not quick enough. “I happened to arrive the same time MECH was trying to leash your unhinged pets—”

“ _ Pets _ ? You said just Jack.”

Starscream’s engines sputtered. “Er, well—”

“Arcee,” Ratchet spoke up, pulling the welder from the Seeker’ sealed wound. “Didn’t Miko say something, that MECH wasn’t working alone?”

Arcee remembered. “She said they were working with  _ ‘Cons _ !”

With that snarl, the femme aimed her blasters at the former Decepticon. Starscream let out another high-pitched squawk, pressing his wings against the boulder and raising his talons defensively.

“Wait, wait! I can explain!” he yelped.

“You were there,” Arcee growled, narrowing her optics and drawing her lips back in a snarl. “It was you! You took Jack!”

Starscream squawked and flailed like a fish out of water, forcing Ratchet to recoil before he could get smacked in the face. The Seeker rambled in a flurry of words, his voice getting higher and higher with each lie.

“No, no! It’s not what you think! They—they  _ made _ me! Silas threatened he would tear me apart like poor Breakdown if I didn’t do what they asked! Wh-when the pet—erm,  _ boy _ —destroyed their prototype, they blamed me!”

Arcee found her tanks rolling in disgust, her frame shaking with rage. Even Ratchet looked severe, glaring down at the babbling Seeker.

“Where did they take Jack?” the medic demanded.

“I don’t  _ know _ ! They have bases all over the continent, they could be anywhere by now!”

“The project, where is it?”

“I’ll tell you! I’ll tell you!  _ Please _ ! Have  _ mercy _ !”

Starscream let out a pitiful wail, a high-pitched sound that grated Arcee’s audios. She winced slightly, but her aim did not falter. The Seeker was curled in his little ball again, armor clamped down defensively and wings down in submission. The femme thought she saw a tremble in his servos. Wide, bright red optics met her narrowed, cool ones.

This was no longer a proud Air Commander, but rather a fearful, groveling mech-animal.

Arcee growled in disgust. “You’re  _ pathetic _ .”

With that, she deactivated her blasters. The coward wasn’t worth the energon. Instead, she raised her servo to her audio, activating her commlink. The others deserved to hear this, and Starscream didn’t deserve to walk free any more.

“Ironhide, I need a groundbri— _ aaargh!” _

Arcee broke off with a ragged scream as sharp agony exploded from her side. She instinctively recoiled, bringing a servo to wrap around her middle. Only to feel wet, sticky energon. Leaking from long, deep slashes. Claw marks.

“Arcee— _ gah _ !”

The femme shot her helm at Ratchet’s grunt of pain, only to see Starscream, talons extended, wings up, and lips curled back into a snarl. The ex-Decpeticon was wrestling the medic to the ground, trying to use his superior size to pin the old ‘Bot down. However, the war veteran was scrappier, sending a solid punch to the Seeker’s helm.

Starscream hissed and reared back, dazed. Ratchet used the opportunity to push back, pouncing on the Decepticon like a cyber-cat. Only the former scientist was no fighter, spending most of his life in laboratories and triages. The ex-military leader easily saw the attack, bracing to catch the bulky Autobot.

Before Arcee could work up a shout, Starscream grabbed hold of Ratchet’s helm,  _ brutality  _ slamming his crown into the boulder. There was a sickening crunch of metal, and the medic fell limp, his systems humming as he was forced into stasis.

It all had happened so fast, before the two-wheeler even had a chance to straighten. Her processor was still reeling, still trying to figure out what happened and activated self-regeneration protocols. It took a full klik for her to register Starscream’s talons reaching out, snatching up Ratchet’s fallen medkit. Before she had a chance to flicker her optics, he stuffed it in his subspace.

“I suppose I should show my gratitude for your  _ generosity, _ ” Starscream sneered. “You Autobots can always be relied upon to have such soft sparks.”

Finally Arcee’s processor clicked into place. She bared her lips back in a furious snarl. “You tricked us.”

“Not really.” The flyer said it all too casually as he trotted over Ratchet’s fallen frame. “I asked for your medic, and I told you about your pet. Our business is concluded.” His sneer widened as Arcee growled deeply. “Now then, I’ll be taking my leave…”

The dismissive wave instantly heated the Autobot’s systems, and her blades automatically ejected.

“Not without you telling me what you have done to Jack,” Arcee snarled.

“Hmm… no.” The femme bristled, and the ex-Decepticon did not miss the opportunity. “You pathetic Autobots, always looking out for the weaker creatures. To think such a miserable slug has you all riled up.”

Arcee had enough. With a screech, the femme pounced.

Starscream raised his talons in defense, but the Autobot was faster. She leaped high into the air, somersaulting with supreme agility to land a brutal kick to Starscream’s helm. The Seeker grunted in pain, stumbling back and arms flailing to catch his balance. Arcee immediately took advantage, landing squarely on her pedes before springing back up into the air.

She latched onto Starscream’s back, latching onto gaps of his armor. The former Air Commander squawked and began to flail like he back been touched by an insect, reaching over his shoulders with his talons, but Arcee stayed out of reach. She slashed along his dorsal armor and wings, provoking shrieks as the sensitive metal was shredded by her sharp blades.

“Get off, you wretched pest!”

Arcee seethed as suddenly wicked claws dug into her scruff, drawing energon, and forcefully yanked her off her perch. The world panned as she was thrown over Starscream’s helm, slamming onto the ground hard, the stone cracking beneath her. She winced as pain coursed through her body, but she didn’t let herself falter. Rolling over to her all fours, she dug her heels into the earth and launched herself at the Decepticon.

This time Starscream was ready for her, rearing back and shielding his dented helm with his arms. Arcee merely sent a flurry of attacks, kicking, punching, and slicing, but the Decepticon blocked or dodged them all, keeping his guard up. Without a T-cog, his weapons were deactivated, but the Seeker still had his claws and fangs. Something he did not hesitate to use, swiping at Arcee whenever he had the chance, even snapping his jaws when the femme drew too close.

The femme yelped in revulsion and planted a solid kick on his chest, using the momentum to flip away. She stumbled when she landed, vents sputtering and cooling fans on full blast. She placed a servo on the wound on her side, only to find it was wetter than before.

She was leaking energon, badly. The two-wheeler could already feel her energy sapping as her life-source drained from her body. She couldn’t keep up with Starscream much longer. Where was Ratchet? Arcee glanced over her shoulder in the direction where the medic lay unconscious. The fight had drawn her away from her comrade, and she could only hope the old ‘Bot would hang in there.

A dark chuckle drew her from her thoughts.

“You’re tough to scrap,” Starscream sneered, circling her in long, dangerous strides. “Tougher to scrap than your  _ former  _ partner.”

Arcee stiffened at the statement, feeling like someone had plucked her neural net. It was so unexpected it took a full klik for her to register the words. Her former partner.

Cliffjumper.

No, he was a fighter. No matter how dire the challenge, he would face it head-on. That was how Arcee remembered him. Not… not that  _ thing _ .

“You don’t know anything, Starscream,” she growled.

This time the Seeker let out a malicious laugh. “Oh? I know Cliffjumper was a so-called, ‘fierce’ warrior, but he didn’t seem that fierce to me when he was brought to me,  _ groveling  _ on his knees. I was doing him a favor, you know, when I tore into his spark.

Her audios did not even pick up the words. No, she heard only scrambled noise. Her processor did not register the statement, refused to translate it. Memories she had locked away for years returned to the forefront of her mind.

Cliffjumper’s broken horn, laying on the ground, abandoned. His life signal, appearing on Ratcher’s monitor, after days of not detecting a single trace. Only when the Autobots traced it, she found Cliffjumper, covered in dents and scorch marks and scratches and dirt. Only half of his mangled frame remain, laying in a pool of sickly violet energon. She was so caught up, so desperate to save her partner, to stop history from repeating itself, she did not see his lifeless, purple optics until it was too late.

The monster fell, deactivated, lost forever when the mine erupted in flames. A  _ Decepticon  _ mine.

Finally reality returned to her, but it was cold and cruel, hitting her like a solid wall.

“Y-you…” Arcee could think of nothing more, her processor latching onto the blasphemous words, trying to convince her that they were just another lie. But no, her spark twisted, and she  _ knew. _ Her chassis trembled. Then her voice was a savage, unnatural snarl. “It was  _ you _ ! You vanquished Cliffjumper!”

Starscream’s evil sneer only widened. “Tell me, Arcee, is Jack weak like Cliffjumper? Like  _ Tailgate _ ?”

_ “I swear upon the AllSpark, it’s the truth!” _

_ “We shall see…” _

_ “No!  _ **_Please_ ** _!” _

_ Her desperate cries were ignored. The blade rose, looming in the air. Arcee opened her intake, to tell, to break, to  _ give up _. But it was too late. _

_ Energon splattered across the wall. _

It was then an inferno of fury coursed through her chassis, fueled by vengeful hate. Decepticons. All they did was take and take and take. Crimson lined Arcee’s optics, turning her bright lenses a tainted purple.

She charged, holding out her blades in front of her. She sent slash after slash, aiming for gaps of armor and leering optics, but by now Starscream had learned to anticipate her blind attacks. Arcee let out a wheeze as his spiked knee slammed into her middle, so hard it caused her vents to sputter.

The ex-Decepticon took advantage of her immobility to take the offensive, swiping and punching and kicking, filling the air with horrible sounds of metal on metal and fiery showers of sparks. Arcee cried out as he brutally slammed his elbow into her back, forcing her to the ground. Before she could even  _ think  _ about getting up, Starscream sent a powerful kick to her side. The little Autobot went through the air, landing hard on a sloped ravine, tumbling down and down and down.

Yet when she came to a halt, it came far too soon. Arcee groaned as a wave of agony washed over her. Her frame was covered by dents and scratches, her sensitive winglets crushed from the impact. Warning messages appeared over her HUD, alerting her that her energon levels were low. Slowly, painfully, she forced herself to all fours, her body shaking. Only when she did, a thruster planted on her back and shoved her back down. Arcee let out a pained grunt as Starscream cruelly laughed.

“You should have finished me while I was helpless, Arcee,” he drawled in a mocking tone, “just like I finished Cliffjumper!”

The Autobot gritted her denta, shutting her optics tight. Cliffjumper, whom she failed to save. Like she failed to save Tailgate. Like she couldn’t save Jack. No wonder her human charge hated her.

_ “Your pet belongs to me now.” _

 

Maybe she deserved this. It was all her fault. She had pushed Jack away. She remembered how excited he looked when he noticed her watching him. How heartbroken he was when she left him with that cold statement. She thought she was protecting him. No matter how hard she tried, she always put Jack in danger. She thought if she stayed away,  _ permanently _ , he would be safe.

Megatron seemed to be doing a better job watching over him then she ever could. But she was wrong. Now Jack was in MECH’s clutches, and Primus knew what they were doing to him. Because Arcee had failed to protect her partner.

_ “You’re right, Jack, I am scared. Of losing you!” _

The femme curled her servos into fists, clawing at the earth underneath her. She didn’t want to lose Jack. She  _ couldn’t  _ lose Jack. He was her only light since Cliffjumper’s death. She was  _ his  _ guardian. It was her fault, her responsibility to fix it. For Tailgate. For Cliffjumper.

Arcee tried to push herself up with what was left of her strength, but Starscream shoved her back down.

“Now prepare to reunite with your partners!” he taunted.

Long, deadly talons wrapped around her throat, so tight it drew energon. Arcee whimpered.

“What was that?” The large Decepticon plucked her off the ground with a single servo, so she was forced to look into his terrible optics. “I can’t hear your last words.”

“This…” Her words were filled with static. “Is…” She forced her vocalizer to reset. “For…” Arcee’s optics filled with fury. “CLIFFJUMPER!”

With that shout, the femme ejected her blade and slashed it across Starscream’s face. The Seeker howled in agony. He tossed his prisoner away and his talons flew to his face. Arcee took advantage, landing square on her feet only to land a volley of kicks and punches into the arrogant bastard. Blinded, Starscream could only cry out at the onslaught, sparks and energon flying into the air.

With a violent shout, Arcee spun mid-air, bringing both servos together and slamming  _ hard _ on the top of the ex-Decepticon’s helm. This time Starscream was sent head over heels down the ravine, crashing at the bottom with a terrible slam. Arcee did not hesitate, following the Seeker all the way down and pouncing on his chest, bringing her dual blades to his neck.

“Where did MECH take Jack?!” she demanded. “Tell me!”

A mocking chuckle was her reply. Even with his face dented and stained in energon, Starscream’s sneer was as twisted as ever.

“What do you think they are doing to him now?” he said in a sick purr. “Do you think they are tearing him apart? Or shredding away what’s left of his sanity? Or… do you think it’s too late?” The sneer widened to an evil smile. “I wonder… did he beg for you to come save him in his final moments, or did Jack die thinking you abandoned him?”

Arcee’s optics turned red.

She brought her blade high into the air, braced to sever Starscream’s helm from his shoulders and bring an end to the miserable snake once and for all. It was the least she could do for her partners. Avenge their deaths and bring justice to their names. She would find Jack on her own. He would understand, he would  _ want  _ her to do this.

Jack had suffered enough, he didn’t deserve to suffer anymore. Not when war had taken so much from him. Not when he  _ hated _ war.

Arcee paused at the thought.

Jack, who was compassionate and kind. Jack, who fought tears when he admitted his father’s death to her, when she was still mourning Cliffjumper’s. Jack, who did cry when he learned soldiers had died for  _ him _ . How would he react, when he found out Arcee had killed just because of him? Murdered a helpless prisoner? He would never forgive her…

The femme left out a heavy sigh, slowly lowering her blade. Angry red optics returned to a cool blue.

“You’re not worth it…” Arcee murmured, unable to look down at the pinned Seeker.

“Aww, you don’t care about your pet?” Starscream continued to mock. “Don’t you want to avenge him?”

“I  _ care _ about my  _ partner _ . And I will avenge him. But not on  _ you _ . You’re just a tool.” Starscream blinked at that, as if he wasn’t expecting that answer.” Besides, I have no need to bring justice. Not when I  _ know  _ Jack is still alive. And I  _ will  _ find him.”

“Ha! You don’t even know where he is!”

“No.” In a flicker of an optic, Arcee brought her blades back to Starscream’s throat. “But  _ you _ do, don’t you?”

That sneer faltered. “N-no, I don’t…”

“You talked about a project—what is it?”

“That was when you were going to  _ help _ me! Not try to turn me into scrap!”

“I’m not going to turn you into scrap, Starscream.” It was Arcee’s turn to smile. “I’ll just give you to Megatron.”

The Seeker let out an undignified sound. His narrow optics went wide. Every being on Cybertron, either Autobot or Decepticon, feared the warlord’s wrath. His second-in-command knew that wrath all too well.

“Y-you can’t do that!” Starscream protested, his voice rising an octave. “Megatron will terminate me for treason if I ever return to the  _ Nemesis _ !”

“Then you better start talking.” She pressed the blade to the fragile wiring of his neck, emphasizing each word. “What is MECH plotting?”

The former Air Commander’s arrogance and mourning attitude had drained away, replaced by quivering wings and bright optics. Finally his fear of Megatron won. “Th-they aren’t just planning to build a Cybertronian. Silas wanted some sort of hybrid—”

“That’s  _ impossible _ , a Cybertronian and a human could  _ never—” _

_ “ _ It’s true! He said that Jack had something to do with it.”

“ _ How?” _

“Do you think I asked for  _ details _ ? He only mentioned a base, a facility they set up for their Project er, Chimera.”

“ _ Where?”  _

“Err, some city-state. Ebony? Albany? No… um… Al-bane-ee-a? Yes, that was it! Albania!”

“Care to be more specific?” Arcee pressed, moving closer to her captive.

“Erm, north of the capital. In the mountains. I swear, that’s all I know!”

The femme only growled at his plea, and Starscream leaned away. Once again, the ex-Decepticon proved he was  _ useless _ . But it wasn’t surprising, he didn’t know much. Starscream had likely groveled to the likes of MECH merely to feed off their energon supply, than to actually care about their endeavors. Arcee forced a vent. It wasn’t much, but it was more than they had yesterday. 

And maybe, it was enough to find Jack.

Arcee shut her optics, and forced herself to pull her blades from Starscream’s fuel-lines. Oh, it was hard, but facing Jack’s distraught look would have been harder. When she onlined them, she was greeted with the lush green trees of the forest beyond. And beady red optics, eying her.

Arcee blinked, with a gasp. What was--

It was then she saw the metal blades that made long wings. Sharp talons, digging into the wooden branches above the quarreling Cybertronian. A curved beak, parted in what almost looked like a sinister smile.

Laserbeak.

“ _ Scrap _ !” she cursed, transforming her blades into blasters, but she was too late.

The surveillance drone flapped his wings, just as she opened fired. Bolts of energon sent smoke, splinters, and charred leaves into the air, but Laserbeak effortlessly weaved between the projectiles and ducked into the forest. Then before Arcee had a chance to think, something  _ hard  _ struck her helm. She let out a wail as she sent to the ground.

“It’s been a pleasure, truly, Arcee,” Starscream’s voice returned, mocking but with a hint of nervousness he failed to mask. No doubt he also noticed the spy. “But  _ now  _ I’ll be leaving.”

With that, the Seeker spun on his thrusters and sprinted away.

“S-Starscream!” Arcee bellowed after him.

She raised a blaster, sending a volley of shots, but Starscream was  _ fast _ . She had only managed to strike a couple of trees before he vanished from sight. Arcee snarled and rose to all fours. Only to frantically glance back and forth, torn in opposite directions. Should she go after Starscream, or Laserbeak?

Starscream was her only lead to Jack, but if Laserbeak returned to the  _ Nemesis… _

Arcee bared her denta, realizing she had no choice. She knew she had to do whatever it took to save her charge, but she couldn’t let that  _ monster _ take him from her. Not again. With a growl, the femme transformed, flooring it into the forest. It wasn’t long before she heard his desperate cries, calling for his master.

“Laserbeak!” she shouted, rerouting all her energon to her boosters.

He was staying in the canopy, half-flying, half-leaping from perch to perch, trying to stay out of the open. As a master infiltrator, he knew how not to get caught, and how not to get killed. Arcee didn’t care. She transformed back to her bipedal mode, skidding to a stop as she raised her blaster. She fired and fired and fired.

Laserbeak let out a distressed squawk, flapping and spinning and dancing through the air. Then a bolt struck a wing. The symbiote let out a pitiful scream.

Then the groundbridge opened.

“ _ No _ !”

Arcee lunged forward, as if she could pluck the drone from the air. But she wasn’t fast enough. It was never enough.

With an awkward flap of his wings, Laserbeak pivoted towards the portal. He fell through, disappearing from sight. 

And the portal snapped closed.

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if Starscream seems a little OOC in this chapter, but I can only write so much of a whiny character. So I focused more on his manipulative nature and self-preservation, which I think still hits close to home. 
> 
> If you haven’t guessed, next chapters get more exciting. In fact, I have them written. That was until my laptop crashed. Now I have to rewrite them. And see if insurance covers “shattered-computer-after-being-thrown-into-a-wall.”


	16. Terror

Jack didn’t know how long he screamed, as loud as his lungs would allow. His throat had long gone raw, turning his wails into ragged screeches. Through the chorus of caterwauls, he  _ begged. _ For anyone to save him. Arcee, Optimus. Raf, Miko. Megatron, Silas. Mom, Dad. But no one ever replied.

He didn’t even know if anyone was out there. Were there MECH agents above him, listening to his cries, laughing? Or was he utterly alone? He couldn’t hear anything, he couldn’t  _ see.  _ There was only blackness wherever he looked, so that he couldn’t even distinguish his own hand from the darkness.

His heart hammered in his chest, threatening to explode out of his chest. Sweat covered his skin, plastering his greasy raven hair to his brow. The stale air became salty and stifling, making it hard to breathe. Jack tried to regulate his breathing by practicing the exercises his mother had taught him. But he would forget it halfway through or it would never give him enough air. Some part of him knew he was hyperventilating, but he was so far beyond the point of calming down.

The prisoner pounded against the walls of his prison with all his might, turning his bruised knuckles raw and bloody. He had struck his head multiple times, from slamming his forehead above him or crashing the back of his skull beneath him. It only rewarded him a steady throb to add to the agony.

No matter how much he fought, the sides of the shallow grave pressed against him painfully. He felt his body try to compensate the tightness by shrinking, his mind retreating from the forefront of reality, but the living nightmare kept pursuing him.

Jack tried to shove down the flurry of alien emotions, hot and powerful, too complicated to understand. No, no, he couldn’t break now. He couldn’t break. He gritted his teeth, trying to remember his friends, his family. His friends, who abandoned him. His family, who had forgotten him. Who left him in pain and suffering.

Just like he had been abandoned in the mines.

_ No _ .

He couldn’t go there.

He was Jack Darby.

He was not  _ him _ .

He was not on Cybertron. He was—Where was he? He only remembered pain. Pain and poison. Brought by the acid whip.

_ A sharp crack filled the air. Pain seared from his back and he let out a groan. He fell to his knees, unable to stay on his shaking pedes. He had not fueled in orns… _

_ “I did not tell you to stop!” _

_ Another crack of the whip, and this time he couldn’t swallow his sob of agony. Oh, it did not sting. It  _ burned _. The corrosive acid ate away at his thin, mangled armor, slicing into his protoform. The guards were careful to avoid fuel-lines, to prevent the acid from getting into the veins and losing a perfectly good worker. However, some were more zealous than others. _

_ “D-16, you will keep moving!” _

_ Another sickening sound, followed by searing pain, and he felt wetness trail down his back. The other miners did not look in his direction. They either kept their gaze on their task or used the guard’s distraction to hide their spoils. There were no friends here. Only slaves. _

_ He  _ hated  _ this place. He hated the masters. He hated the miners. But he hated the darkness most of all. _

_ One day, he would leave this place, and gain his freedom. One day, he would see the sun, step into the light. One day, he would  _ **_destroy them all_ ** _. _

Blue eyes turned violet.

* * *

 

Silas leaned against the wall of the room, arms crossed over his chest and eying the metal door on the floor, bored. Dr. DiBiase paced beside him, a tablet clutched tightly in his hands. His calculating eyes never left the screen in his hands, most likely monitoring his patient’s health. The device occasionally gave off a spot beep whenever the physician tweaked something. But other than that, the gloomy room was deafeningly silent.

At least the brat stopped screaming. Not surprisingly, Jack screeched like a banshee once they locked the latch, leaving him trapped in the confining prison. If only Silas had thought of it sooner. It would have saved him a lot of time.

“How are things looking, doc?” the MECH leader asked.

“Increased heart rate, elevated blood pressure,” DiBiase replied in an analytical, distressed tone. “He’s  _ terrified _ .

“Good.”

The doctor paced only three more steps before declaring, “We need to get him out of there. If his levels get any higher, his health will be at risk.”

“Then we’ll take him out when that happens.”

There was a weird noise from DiBiase. “Sir, his body is still weak and recovering from trauma. Even with the…  _ drug _ , he is no condition to experience any more stress.”

“If I remember, correctly, doctor,” Silas spoke up, a hint of a dangerous tone in his voice, “ _ you  _ were the one that suggested this approach.”

The stubborn surgeon ignored the warning tone, instead continuing on with an aggressive step forward, “That was because Marcus was tearing Jack apart just to sate his sick, sadistic vices. No matter how many times I may have treated him, Jack’s body would just have gotten weaker and weaker until it shut down altogether. He would have been  _ dead _ !”

Silas was silent, letting the other man rant, and he let it linger a moment.  He asked curtly, “And now that he’s all patched up, are you certain he will live?”

DiBiase took a moment to respond. “…Yes.”

“Then we’ll continue the treatment.”

The MECH leader sent a sideways glare at the physician, telling his word was final. However, DiBiase was not done yet, opening his mouth to continue the argument.

Only for the monitor to let out a shrill scream.

While Silas’s eyes narrowed in confusion, the doctor’s gaze went impossibly wide. He fumbled to regain his hold on the tablet, only for his skin to blanch when he looked at the screen.

“Oh, my God…”

“What is it?” the ex-SEAL demanded, straightening to his full height.

DiBiase merely shook his head in disbelief, fingers already tapping away at the tablet as if he was trying to reset the screen. “It… it just stopped.” Before Silas could ask what “it” was, he raised his voice to a yell, “Jack’s heart just stopped!”

Instead of empathizing with the physician's panic, the extremist merely scoffed. “It’s broken. Check again.”

“Silas—”

“A few hours in the dark wouldn’t give a seventeen-year-old a heart attack. And you just told me everything was treated. He’s  _ fine _ .”

“Our entire operation depends on the results of this experiment,” DiBiase hissed out lowly, gesturing the closed pit. “The fate of MECH— _ entire  _ world—is depending on this child.” When Silas just stared, he shook his head and spat out, “And goddamnit, I will not let my godson die! Even if it’s a malfunction, is it really a risk you are willing to take?”

The terrorist leader frowned. He knew logically that it was physically impossible, that it was most likely the device glitching out. He wouldn’t be surprised if Jack somehow found a way to sabotage it, knowing all too well how crafty the clever little brat could be. However, they were still observing the full effects of the dark energon. Could this be a delayed reaction? Why now?

Silas muttered a curse. It was just proof Jack would never stop being a pain in his ass. Even at his mercy, the child was becoming more and more trouble for the MECH leader. Even when beaten and broken and brought from the brink of death, Silas had seen that defiant look in his eyes in the medical bay. Maybe this was no different. If Jack could not defy his captor in life, he would do so in death.

The thought made Silas snarl. He would be damned to let the brat win.

With that, the extremist leader let out a bark. As always, his summons was immediately answered as the door swung open. Marcus and two agents strolled in, looking around with sadistic curiosity. Silas snapped his fingers and gestured to the prison.

“Get him out,” he ordered curtly.

Marcus cocked an eyebrow and tilted his head, but he did not dare question his leader. Especially as the man glared at him with narrowed eyes. The metal covering was too heavy to for a single person to lift, so the two guards settled on either side of it as Marcus kneeled and unlatched the lock. He tossed the padlock aside and there was a long, drawn-out squeal as the cover was lifted.

It wasn’t even fully opened until there was a blur of movement and Marcus let out a strangled grunt. The man was thrown to the floor, Jack Darby on top of him, violet eyes glowing brilliantly.

_ Finally _ .

Silas sneered, ignoring DiBiase’s curse of shock beside him. Instead, he watched as the brat’s hands wrapped around Marcus’s throat, squeezing hard. The interrogator seized the boy’s wrists, trying to pry him off, but Jack’s grip did not relent. That was until one of the other agents moved over, slamming the heel of his boot into the teenager’s temple.

The brat was sent to the ground with a vicious gasp, dazed. The second agent took advantage, landing a solid kick to Jack’s ribs. He did not let up, falling to a knee and seizing the downed prisoner’s shoulder, raised his fist high to bring it down on the teen’s head. Only for Jack to catch it in his palm.

Before the man could work up a gasp, the brat twisted his arm, the  _ wrong way _ . The soldier seethed as Jack straightened. Then the brat sent a  _ powerful  _ punch to the agent’s temple, with such force his head was sent to the side. Silas swore he heard a  _ crack  _ of a breaking bone, but he didn’t know if it came from his follower’s skull or Jack’s hand.

The agent that first attacked the brat lunged, tackling into his back. The teen let out a savage growl when the momentum sent him forward, but somehow he managed to stay on his feet. The MECH soldier acted quickly, wrapping his arm around Jack’s neck in a chokehold. The brat let out a strangled sound, hands flying to his captor’s limb.

Just when Silas thought the deranged child was restrained, Jack suddenly lunged forward—the agent still attached to his back. The man wheezed as he was sent to the floor, but the teen wasn’t done yet. He snatched the soldier’s arm and twisted, practically  _ throwing _ the nearly two hundred pound man through the air. He slammed into the concrete wall, hard. He groaned as he slid to the ground, limp.

Jack was back on his feet in an instant, violent eyes snapping back and forth, hungry for his next prey. Silas cautiously stepped away, out of his sight, instead letting his subordinate near the boy. Jack turned, only to be greeted with the blade of Marcus’s knife. He leaned back with impossible reflexes, but he wasn’t fast enough.

The brat yelped as the tip sliced into his cheek, leaving behind a crimson line. Instead of reeling back in pain, the lips pulled back in a savage snarl and his tainted eyes gleamed with fury. Marcus slashed again, only for Jack to seize his wrist. Instead of twisting the arm, he raised his heel, sending it into the side of the torturer’s knee.

It caved inward and there was a loud  _ pop _ of a snapped tendon. Marcus howled when his rendered useless leg crumbled beneath him. As he fell to his knees, Jack wrenched the knife from his hold. He moved behind his opponent, twisting his arm more and more until there another distinct  _ pop  _ from his shoulder. Just as the brat buried the blade into Marcus’s shoulder. A blood-curdling scream filled the room, and Silas eyed DiBiase reeling back, eyes wide in horror.

There was a wet  _ squelch _ as the knife was ripped back out, cloaked in blood. Then in a movement too fast for Silas to follow, Jack wrenched Marcus’s head back, exposing his throat. There was a shout from DiBiase, likely at Jack, but it was too late.

The blade was slashed across the torturer’s throat, and there the sickening sound of splattering blood.

Then there was a heavy thud as Marcus’s body fell to ground.  Silas watched his prisoner with a narrowed gaze, keeping an inscrutable expression, as Jack straightened, his gaze dark and deadly. Then he smiled.

Oh, it wasn’t one of his humorous grins or a taunting quirk of the lips. It was  _ sinister,  _ that would have made any other man run. Judging by DiBiase’s flinch, the doctor was about to. But Silas held his ground, watching as Jack’s gaze fell to the floor. Noticing the unmoving corpse and the red pool underneath him.

Then suddenly that monstrous gaze turned into a look of horror.

“No…” A strange shudder coursed through Jack. “ _ No _ !”

Suddenly the teen reared back, clutching his head. Silas blinked, baffled, as the brat folded in on himself. Jack blinked several times, revealing one blue and the other sickly purple. He was muttering to himself, but too low for the extremist to hear. Then without warning, Jack snapped his head back and let out a blood-curdling scream. Then just like that, the boy’s mismatched eyes slid close and he crumpled to his knees. He slumped onto his side, falling into the pool of blood with a wet thud, unconscious.

For a solid minute, both men just stared, unable to comprehend what they just saw. In a matter of seconds, before either man could react, three of Silas’s top soldiers lay across the ground—two unconscious, one dead. Bested by a seventeen-year-old boy.

Silas’s heart quickened. Incredible. So this was the power of dark energon.

The power to crush anyone or any government standing in MECH’s way. The power to rule the Earth. And Silas had it all to himself. It  _ would  _ be his.

Slowly, cautiously, he neared the unmoving brat on the ground, but Jack did not stir at his approach. As he knelt next to the prisoner, he placed his fingers on the boy’s neck. Only to a feel a strong, healthy heartbeat.

“You still think it’s an adrenaline rush, doctor?” Silas drawled as he straightened.

DiBiase’s mouth was agape and his eyes were impossibly wide, looking like a deer in headlights with a hunter’s rifle trained on him. He opened and closed his mouth several times like a fish out of water, before finally he spoke in a shaky, quiet voice.

“I-Impossible,” he gasped. “J-Jack… Jack couldn’t possibly be capable of…”

“Taking out three fully-grown, well-trained men with a flick of his wrist?”

“B-but he was— The monitor read— It couldn’t possibly be a malfunction, I-I designed it myself.”

“And there’s no medical explanation?”

DiBiase shook his head. “It defies all medical phenomenon—all  _ science _ . And there’s no anomaly except—”

“The dark energon,” Silas finished, stepping towards the man and fixing him with a look. “Can you determine how it’s affecting him?”

It took a moment for the surgeon to find the words to speak, gesturing to his tablet, his knuckles bone white around it. “I’ll... h-have to look over the data. But, if it’s the dark energon, then it’s a chemical enhancement.”

“Meaning?”

“Most drugs affect the human body by manipulating neurotransmitters in the brain. It causes a chain reaction throughout the person, especially if it effects hormones. If... the dark energon is doing the same, it could explain Jack’s… physical alteration.” A look of confusion passed over DiBiase’s face. “But I don’t understand how it could have possibly stopped his—”

“Irrelevant.”

Silas digested the information he had learned. His theory had been correct—significant stress triggered the dark energon in Jack’s body, and the effects were instantaneous.  Sheer, unbridled aggression. It would have created the perfect supersoldier, but not if the requirements to control it were too specific to apply in real combat.

The experiment itself was already taking too long. It took over a week of constant pressure until Jack broke. They had gained invaluable research, true, but not enough. And at this rate, Darby’s body would be destroyed before MECH could gain anything useful. Silas needed to learn how to manipulate the dark energon, how to modify it.

And there was only one way to do that.

“You say its altering his body,” Silas mused, “Can you determine how, exactly?”

DiBiase shook his head. “We already did scans from the previous time he was in our custody—nothing appeared out of the ordinary. The only way to see how it’s affecting his brain is by scanning it during one of his… episodes. But, obviously, that would be nearly impossible. Unless…”

Silas cocked an eyebrow, encouraging the man could go on.

“...Surgery could allow us to see how it’s  _ physically  _ altering his body. I could observe his nervous system—”

“Do it.”

DiBiase blinked. “Sir?”

“The surgery, do it. Whatever you have to do. I want to know  _ everything _ .”

Although Silas was deadly serious, DiBiase’s look of horror widened. “B-but, sir, in order to do that, I would have to perform a biopsy. I would have to  _ remove _ his brain— He would— Jack would die!”

“Are you confident the experiment has yielded all we can learn?” Silas pressed, crossing his arms over his chest.

“W-well, I suppose—”

“Then  _ do it _ .” The MECH leader filled his voice with iron authority, leaving no room for argument. “I will not waste any more time and resources if there’s nothing else to learn. If Jack can no longer contribute to MECH as he is, he will do so in death.”

DiBiase blanched, staring at Silas as if he was the one that ripped three soldiers apart. He fumbled for words again, letting a string of babbling noises that the extremist had no patience listening to.

“B-but you said we couldn’t afford to lose—”

“Are you questioning me?” Silas demanded, narrowing his eyes dangerously.

For a moment, it looked like the physician would really continue the argument, cold eyes blazing and mouth open for the next word, hands even raised in exasperation. But hearing his leader’s deadly tone and piercing glare, DiBiase swallowed and slowly lowered his hands to his sides. He slumped and avoided the ex-SEAL’s gaze.

“No, sir.”

“Then you have your orders.”

With that, Silas stormed out the door, leaving the bloody room behind.

* * *

 

Megatron was in an irritated mood. He wholly blamed it on Jack.

The Decepticon lord paced back and forth in his personal chambers, claws clenched by his sides and fangs bared. He knew it wouldn’t be long before rumors spread across the ship like wildfire, the troops trying to find an explanation for their leader’s odd behavior. But he rather have the crew gossip about his disappearance, than notice his episodes of weakness.

Rather,  _ Jack’s  _ weakness. The boy was suffering, that much Megatron could tell. Alien emotions—fear, sorrow, shame, humiliation, desperation—would invade his processor in waves, scrambling data and thoughts. His spark would twist and ache. Yet the silver titan had to reel his field in tight, keeping an inscrutable mask. However, the pain that would filter through was much harder to contain.

At times it would be a simple ache in his struts that Megaton could ignore. Other times, it was like a hellish inferno was coursing through his neural net. Some of the onslaughts were so violent, a wave of sensations attacking him so suddenly, that his battle protocols would activate.  But as there was no wound, no opponent, he settled for terminating whatever was in his sights.

He had already left a trail of sizeable dents throughout the  _ Nemesis _ , and thoroughly destroyed a workstation.  Once an Eradicon came too close, only for Megatron to whirl around and cleave its helm from its shoulders. The drones stayed a safe distance away after that.

Whenever Megatron dared to push back against the blood-bond, sending his stronger will to Jack, the ungrateful child would simply smack it away. It infuriated the warlord. Not only did he managed to get himself captured, but he wasn’t even bothering to do anything about it. And the fleshling had no qualms sharing  _ every _ sensation. Megatron had no regret spitefully sealing the bond, shoving all of Jack’s misery to the back of his mind so that it was a simple buzz in his processor. If the pet wanted to suffer alone, then so be it.

If only the silence lasted.

Megatron let out a roar as he threw a mighty punch into the nearest wall. There was a horrible sound of metal on metal, the black wall caving in to leave behind a deep depression. The titan did not care, instead focused on the sharp sensation piercing his spark. Then it spread across his neural net frigid fire, chilling his frame and stalling systems.

How? What was happening—

Then the Decepticon recognized it. It was a sensation he had not felt in thousands and thousands of cycles, since his ancient days as a weak, defenseless slave bound by cruel masters and a crueler system. He had forgotten about it, until it became a foreign thing he had no concept of knowing. He had come close to understanding it, but he turned away each time before it could taint him. It took him time to remember it.

_ Fear _ .

Jack’s fear.

It was so powerful it had knocked down the defensive wall Megatron had built up, and now pouring through the bond and flooding his processor. His body shuddered without his permission, and he had to stop himself from going into a frenzy. Warning messages flashed across his HUD, of an increased spark-pulse and battle protocols being activated and overheating systems.

It took several long, agonizing kliks until Megatron was able to activate his vocalizer. He let out another roar—this one savage, blood-curdling, destructive.

He pushed back against the onslaught of terror, replying with his own assault of fury, hatred, and bloodthirstiness. Megatron ignored the flare of raw emotion, focusing on collecting useless data and old files. He built them up over the blood-bond, locking it shut. A wail from Jack, only to be silenced. Along with the emotions and the pain and the accursed fear.

It still took several breems for the dictator to reboot horribly confused systems and deactivate cooling fans and weapons protocols. With a grunt, Megatron straightened himself, frowning at the dent in the wall, yet another one left behind. He snarled. Enough of this.

The Decepticon leader stormed out of his quarters, stomping through the corridors of the  _ Nemesis _ . Any passing Vehicons hastily bowed and avoided meeting his optics, careful to keep a wide berth from their agitated leader. That was fine with Megatron.

As always, the communication center was alive with activity. Screens covered almost the entirety of the walls, either filled with Cybertronian script or live feeds from countless cameras. Some showed the halls of the  _ Nemesis _ , some showed orbital views of Earth, some showed humans and there were even a couple observing their military bases. Consoles filled the room, each station occupied by a focused drone, some not even glancing up at their master’s arrival. Although Soundwave preferred solitude, one mech could only do so much.

The surveillance chief stood in the center of it all, leaning over a terminal that formed a semi-ring around him. Soundwave’s fingers flew across the keys and his data-cables were connected to the console, flashing as they routed data faster than any Cybertronian ever could. As Megatron moved closer, he found the other former gladiator’s frame was much leaner than usual. It seemed all of his symbiotes had been deployed.

Soundwave did not recognize his lord until Megatron paused beside him, careful not invade his station, but stood close enough to have his presence known.

_ “I grow impatient, Soundwave,” _ the tyrant growled.  _ “Surely it is not that hard to find  _ **_insects_ ** _?” _

Of course, Megatron did not expect an answer. When Soundwave protested his slavery to the High Council, only to be denied freedom, the humiliated and betrayed Champion of Polyhex vowed to never depend on speeches to solve his problems. He would let his actions speak louder than words.

Soundwave kept his vow of silence, letting the screens answer for him. He brought many pictures and images of files, written in English. Reports, Megatron realized, on MECH’s activities. Specifically, one human called “Leland Bishop.” Or rather,  _ Silas.  _ So that was the one that took his Jack.

The reports told many things about him, mostly facts Megatron had no interest in. However, he noticed each report took place in a different country and were usually far apart. Some were vaguer than others. It seems Silas did not like to stay in one place for long and managed to move without his pursuers’ knowledge.

_ “Hmm… so they know how to avoid detection,” _ Megatron concluded.

Soundwave nodded.

_ “Then it seems we cannot depend on the humans’ system of surveillance.” _

Another nod. Disappointing.

Although primitive, when the humans’ monitoring system was combined, it was powerful. Thousands and thousands of cameras, from all different angles, even from the planet’s orbit. Not to mention the fleshlings were always communicating with each other, chattering away like they weren’t speaking on an unsecure line. Soundwave especially enjoyed going through the limitless amount of knowledge, gathering as much intel of their enemies—both Autobots and humans—as possible. Or at the very least, taking notes for later reference.

Megatron snarled. And now even that proved useless. Soundwave had found  _ nothing _ , and he found  _ everything _ . But the warlord  _ refused  _ to let the search die here. He would burn this entire planet, if that is what it took take back his pet.

The Decepticon’s bloodthirsty thoughts were interrupted by a ping from Soundwave. He glanced at his third-in-command to find his visor filled with schematics. Then suddenly a small groundbridge appeared before them. A tiny figure darted out, letting out a triumphant squawk.

Megatron flickered his optics and tilted his helm, watching as Laserbeak flapped around the room. One of his wings moved awkwardly, likely damaged, but that did little to quell his zeal. The symbiote chirped excitedly, fluttering over their helms. Naturally the pair of Decepticons were curious. The only time Lazerback acted like this was when he found information that could give them an advantage over the Autobots.

Soundwave promptly detached from the terminal and straightened, baring his chest. With a final chirp, Laserbeak swooped down, angling towards his master. He spread his wings before impact, slowing his descent, and transformed before Megatron’s optics. The symbiote attached to the spymaster and glyphs scrolled across Soundwave’s visor as the flyer downloaded surveillance data.

“Well, what is it?” Megatron asked impatiently.

Then suddenly the communications officer stiffened, straightening and immediately turning back to the console. He connected his data-cables to the terminal once again, and the screen before them came to life. Only for Megatron to let out a growl.

It was an image of  _ Starscream _ , pathetically sprawled across a boulder, leaking energon all over himself. The Seeker was venting heavily, obviously in pain, and oblivious to the spy watching him. The video was lined by shadow and leaves, telling Laserbeak had recorded it from the safety of a tree. So the traitor lived.

The scheming snake that had ripped the shard of dark energon from Megatron’s spark, in a failed attempt to terminate him, and then used the power of Unicron for himself. When the Decepticon lord discovered the second-in-command was hoarding energon for himself, he took it to execute the traitor. Instead, Starscream tried to destroy him, and when he couldn’t, he fled like a coward.

Megatron had cared little for his fate, but he ordered Soundwave to keep an optic out for him. He hardly saw how it was irrelevant now. He opened his intake to say as such, only to freeze when a groundbridge opened, and two Autobots stepped out, Ratchet and Arcee. Optimus’s lap dog and medic, and his little femme and Jack’s so-called guardian.

The Decepticon was filled with fury that his former Air Commander  _ begged  _ for the  _ Autobots’  _ help, but then again, it was not surprising. However, Arcee’s words were.

_ /"Where is Jack? _

_ "Patch me up and perhaps I'll tell you.” _ /

Megatron bared his fangs. Starscream  _ knew  _ where his pet was? How? Sure enough, he found his answer as Starscream continued to dig himself into a deeper and deeper hole. So, it was thief that stole his pet. The bubbling rage quelled to amusement as Arcee launched herself at the ex-Decepticon with a screech.

Did the femme  _ actually  _ think Jack was still hers? Little did she know she was doing Megatron a favor, by ripping Starscream apart. It was entertaining to watch Starscream squirm. Laserbeak hastily moving perch to perch, trying to keep the quarreling Cybertronians in sight yet careful to remain hidden. The video only proved that Autobots were no good at controlling their fury, unlike a hateful Decpeticon. Yet Starscream proved he was just as pathetic, as he was eventually pinned by the femme that was not even half his size.

/" _ Where?" _

_ "Err, some city-state. Ebony? Albany? No… um… Al-bane-ee-a? Yes, that was it! Albania!" _

_ "Care to be more specific?" _

_ "Erm, north of the capital. In the mountains. I swear, that's all I know! _ "/

A wide, satisfied smile spread across Megatron’s lips, his fangs glinting in the faint light of the room. The feed ended when Arcee discovered their uninvited guest, her optics wide with shock and fury. He would have to thank her, later.

For now he had everything he needed to find his Jack.

 


	17. Wrath of a Warlord

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now the chapter you’ve all been waiting for. ;D

Megatron stepped onto the flight deck of the  _ Nemesis _ , venting salty, alien air. The obsidian metal was covered in scratch marks of repeated abuse from landing and launching flyers, but it was hardly noticeable in the faint moonlight. The barren rock radiated only a sliver of light—a crescent, he believed the humans called it. Good. As human eyes were useless in the dark, it meant his enemies would not see his approach.

The Decepticon leader would not take a groundbridge today. The technology was only useful if one had precise coordinates—coordinates he did not have. Though taking to the air was slower, it would be a more effective approach to search such a large area. Soundwave insisted to summon the troops, or even his symbiotes, but Megatron refused. He would not allow another to claim his pet first.

Not when Jack was his to take.

Megatron transformed into a wicked Cybertronian jet, taking to the night skies. He stayed high in the atmosphere and he kept his thrusters silent, so no human or scanner could detect him. It made the journey slower than he would have liked, but allowed him to observe the land below.

The earth rose and fell to form the steep slopes and rocky cliffs of mountains, wide valleys stretching between them. The landscape was covered in a lush green of summer, interrupted by white boulders and great lakes. There were fewer humans here. There would be a cluster of lights, nestled in a mountain basin. Megatron would near it, only to discover it was a human settlement, and move on.

White noise constantly filled his audios as he combed through the human frequencies. Many of them were useless, chattering in a language he didn’t understand or playing blaring, annoying sounds. The night wore on, and Megatron’s frustration grew.

Only Starscream would give a false lead. He perhaps didn’t know MECH’s plans at all, and spoke of the first human country that came to mind all in an effort to save his miserable hide. Megatron had no way of knowing that Jack was truly in these mountains. He would continue to be tormented by the human’s fear, which only seemed to grow stronger—

It was then Megatron had a solution.

Slowly, carefully, he began to peel back the seal over the blood-bond, layer by layer. Jack’s frantic thoughts came through, striking the Decepticon’s processor, but not as violently as before. While protocols demanded to expel the foreign signature, Megatron reached out, sinking his claws into Jack’s consciousness. The boy whimpered, but did not resist.

The dark energon in the warlord’s spark pulsed.

The jet banked, turning into a wide arc across the sky. The pulse became stronger. He began his descent, sinking below the clouds. He opened the blood-bond further, and he began to feel a pull in his chest, like a compass. He followed it.

He rounded a tall mountain, finding a cluster of structures hidden within its shadow. While the other human settlements were alive with light and noise, this one was dark and quiet. Except for the chatter that filled Megatron’s comms, and the dark energon that burned brightly within his chassis.

The Decepticon activated his afterburners, having his roar of fury echo across the entire mountain range. Suddenly his comms came to life with course, clipped English.

_ “Bogie incoming!” _

_ “Air Force?” _

_ “Negative!” _

_ “What the fuck is that?” _

Megatron transformed.

He landed on the concrete ground, and the very earth  _ quaked _ . Great, deep cracks spread underneath his pedes. The mountains rumbled, the buildings rattled, and the humans fell to their knees.

Sharp, silver rippled, rising and shifting. Talons flashed and fangs glinted dangerously in the faint, fluorescent light. Hot ventilations turned into steam in the cold air, sounding like a monstrous growl. Crimson optics, filled with hate and fury and power no human could ever fathom, burned in the darkness.

Megatron raised his helm high, letting out a savage, blood-curdling, unnatural roar.

The humans of MECH could only cower at the thunderous bellow, at the devil that had come to reap their souls.

**_“I am Megatron!”_ **

* * *

 

DiBiase was torn. The man was so used to being so sure. As a head surgeon of a hospital, he had to be. He had to be the one to make the decision, how to save a person’s life, to tell their family. He had learned to deal with the consequences of his actions, building a suit of armor over himself to separate himself from reality.

But now, DiBiase did not know what to choose. Terminate the subject, or save Jack, his godson?

Silas was his leader. He had given the physician a sense of purpose in his life. Although he could not fight for the cause, he could aid MECH in his own way, returning the determined freedom fighters to health and advancing their medical technology. He was free to do what he wished, to progress his research however he saw fit, with whatever resources he required. Something that the rigid and confining procedures of a hospital could never provide.

DiBiase owed Silas his loyalty, and more importantly, the MECH leader had given him an order. The doctor had seen first-hand what happened to those that dared to defy the man. However, it was something he never wanted to see again, never mind being subjected to.

Then there was his promise to June. The only woman he ever loved. She had left him alone, would not speak to him for  _ years _ , yet she did not forget him. She had asked  _ him _ to protect her son, should anything happen to her.

DiBiase had considered it an honor, especially if it meant making her happy. But he didn’t realize that the role of a godfather was a mockery. It was simply a reminder of what he could never be. He could uphold his vow, care and provide and protect Jack, but he would always be among the edge of the boy’s life.

The doctor glanced down at the form before him. Jack lay across the hospital bed, unmoving and sedated. There was no heart monitor or IV set up—DiBiase did not need it. Instead, there was a tray of sharp, deadly tools beside the bed, each one glinting dangerously in the bright light. Eager to dig into Jack’s flesh.

It was frightening how much he looked like his mother. That dark, lustrous hair and those icy-blue, intelligent eyes. It made it easy to see Jack that way, that he was June’s son. He was  _ only  _ June’s son. But then Jack had inherited his father’s irresponsibility and roguish attitude.

Then it was easy to remember that June had  _ left  _ him for a brute, and Jack was that brute’s son. That June had mocked him by calling him the boy’s guardian, merely reminding him what he could never be.

DiBiase loved Jack, and  _ hated _ him.

The man swallowed and plucked up a vial from the tray. Within was a clear, pure liquid. It looked so harmless, innocent. It only took a few drops to kill a seventeen-year-old boy.

It would be quick, painless. Far more merciful than what Silas would have done to him. Yes, that was what he was doing. He was saving his godson from suffering any more pain.  _ Protecting  _ him.

June would be upset with him, but DiBiase could explain himself, make her understand. That he didn’t have a choice. And maybe… maybe it could give them a chance to start over. To live the life they could have had.

DiBiase was filled with resolution, but the surgeon’s hands trembled as he filled the syringe. It took a moment to find Jack’s vein, and slide the shaking needle under his skin.

“I-I’m sorry, Jack,” he whispered in a quivering voice, pressing against the plunger.

He watched as the euthanasia disappeared, into the boy’s flesh—

The world trembled.

DiBiase stumbled, catching himself on a tray as the room rattled. The assistants filling the room gasped as the lights flickered, momentarily cloaking them in darkness.

“The hell was that?” the doctor demanded.

He was answered with an alien, enraged roar. ****  
** **

* * *

A hailstorm of sharp projectiles dug into the seams of Megatron’s armor. Plating clamped down defensively and he raised his arms to shield his fragile optics. These humans had effective weapons, to be able to dig into the thick hide of a Cybertronian. They had already formed a wall between him and the structures of their makeshift base, cowering in the shadows of their bulky vehicles. But it would take more than their  _ bullets _ to defeat the Champion of Kaon.

Megatron unsheathed his sword. He lunged forward, slicing the blade across the ground, sending dirt and humans into the air with. Bullets struck his dorsal armor, and the ex-gladiator spun on his heels to face the vermin that had rounded on him. He dragged his blade through the earth once again, ripping concrete, metal, and flesh apart.

Screams filled the air, and Megatron grinned.

Engines roared to life. Small, primitive vehicles began to scurry around his pedes like insects, their occupants hidden within the shells as they continued to fire upon him. As such a pathetic tactic would protect them. In a movement too fast to follow, the Decepticon twisted and sent his sword into one of the automobiles, cleaving it in half. Its momentum sent the pieces skidding across the ground, the humans sent tumbling out with wails.

When another came too close, Megatron slammed his pede, flattening the vehicle beneath it with a sickening  _ crunch _ . The titan casually kicked it away, sending it flipping through the air in a wide arc. It crashed into another car, sending them both rolling in a fiery inferno.

By now the humans had learned to keep their distance, reversing their vehicles and backpedaling on their feet until they were out of range of the warlord’s long sword. They continued to fire their little weapons at him, even as they watched their suppressive fire bounce off his armor harmlessly. The noisy things were so loud it grated Megatron’s audios, drowning out a deadly whistle.

The Decepticon warlord bellowed as a missile struck the stabilizers of his pede, engulfing silver armor. A groan came from his leg as it shook violently, before crumpling beneath him. He fell with a heavy thud, catching himself with a single servo. Optics raging, he scanned the swarm of fleshlings, trying to locate the source of the attack.

He was greeted with a crouching human with a large barrel of a cannon hoisted on its shoulder. Megatron squinted his eyes at the sight, until suddenly the oversized weapon fired and a fiery missile sped forward with a trail of smoke. Only for the titan to catch it in his servo.

The projectile exploded into a ball of flame and smoke. The heat fried sensitive wires, but the thick metal of his palm took the brunt of the impact. The clap of thunder was replaced by a sinister hum as Megatron’s fusion cannon charged.

He took aim and fired, the insect and the pitiful little weapon vaporized in an eruption of scorching heat. The shockwave of the explosion knocked the nearby human’s off their feet with pained yells. Some did not get back up. Megatron pivoted his weapon back and forth, firing one bolt of energon after another, destroying vehicles and fleshlings alike.

Some of the humans were wise enough to retreat, dropping their weapons in shaking terror and twisting on their heels. A few slipped into the shadows of the forest, others he noticed vanished into the surrounding buildings. If this was their base…

The Decepticon scanned the closest structure, only to find it cold and empty. Devoid of his Jack. With a frustrated howl, he raised his fusion cannon and the warehouse was consumed in flames. Glass shattered with a terrible noise as windows were blown out and the building groaned as it the roof caved in.

Megatron scanning the next. The structure was leveled in seconds, and more humans fled. The warlord snarled. Where was Jack?! He knew the dark energon in his  _ spark _ that his pet was here. And judging by the army that greeted him, they were expecting a battle. Fine, then. He would just raze their facility until he got what he wanted.

And Megatron  _ always  _ got what he desired.

Suddenly an odd noise caught his audios. It sounded like a blade, cutting through the air at a rapid speed.

_ Thump-thump-thump. _

Suddenly white, alien light appeared from above. Megatron glanced up, only to be greeted with an odd, bulky flyer hovering thin, spinning wings. And it was  _ noisy _ . With a snarl, the ex-gladiator lifted his arm to destroy it as easily as he did the rest. Only when he did, pain shot through his neural net from his arm.

Megatron roared and flailed, looking down to see a long, sharp  _ hook _ had gone through his wrist, cutting through plating and protoform and severing wires and fuel-lines. Attached to it was a black, metal line, and when he followed it, the Decepticon narrowed his burning optics at a  _ second  _ helicopter.

Baring his fangs in annoyance more than anything else, he reached up with his free servo to wrench the wretched thing out. Only for another spike of pain to erupt from his upper arm, and his limb was ruthlessly tugged back. Another flyer, pulling high and back as if in attempt to restrain the building-sized Cybertronian.

Megatron bared his fangs. He would not be so easily  _ restrained.  _ In a flicker of an optic, the former Champion twisted his right arm, having the chain that held him wrap around his cannon. He used the leverage to take hold of it and  _ pulled _ .

He felt resistance quiver through the line as the helicopter pulled back, desperately trying to stay aloft. However, no human engine could match the might of a Cybertronian. Eventually gravity took a firm hold on the ugly thing, dragging it down and down. The whirling blade caught the lip of a nearby roof, sending metal and sparks in all direction with a terrible noise.

Stripped of its wings, the beast fell to the ground, skidding across the ground in a fiery combustion. Megatron turned his attention to the second helicopter, still attached to his arm. He easily ripped the hook free, sending energon leaking out, but he was more than able to bear the pain.  Whatever pain he managed to feel, the raging warlord used it to fuel his rage and his hatred. He twisted to look up at the noisy contraption, his armor bristling to make him look twice his size.

The helicopter had the sense to fly back and higher, maneuvering out of the titan’s reach—so  _ pathetic _ . Megatron leaped forward, gathering momentum to launch himself in the air. His sword sliced through the human flyer’s tail.

He landed in a low crouch with a terrible thud, ignoring the crippled contraption as it fell to the Earth in a flat spin. Megatron calmly began to rise, turning to continue his hunt. He was growing tired of this—these humans were no challenge to the Lord of the Decepticons.

A strange, eerie, high-pitched noise filled Megatron’s audios.

The ex-gladiator twisted to face the threat, only to be greeted by a brilliant, electric light. The titan bellowed as white-hot pain coursed through his body, scorching his neural net with fire. The warning messages filling his vision were splintered and his audios were filled with static. Megatron was faintly aware of a loud, terrible groan as his stabilizers failed and he fell to the ground.

He barely managed to catch himself on his servos, fangs bared as he struggled to recalibrate his disoriented processor. There must have been per of his mind still functioning, as the Cybertronian identified the assailant as an EMP cannon. Not powerful enough to deactivate him, but certainly effective to ruin his internal circuitry.

“The thing’s down! Kill it!”

Pricks of pain littered his entire body, along with jarring impacts of scorching heat. Warning tolls joined the white noise in Megatron’s audios. He willed his body to move, to continue the fight, to defend his title of Champion. But gears refused to turn, pistons did not move, his weapons did not activate.

The Decepticon leader’s body was unmoving— _ frozen _ . Just like so long ago, when the  _ Harbinger _ fell to this accused world. Damaged and leaking and unable to fight the unbearable, frigid climate, the mighty Champion was locked in stasis. He could not move, as the icy prison closed around him. He could not move, as the humans tore him apart. He could not move, just like Jack.

Megatron could feel him, through the echoes of their blood-bond. He was muted and faint, distant. He could still feel the tremors of his terror and his muffled agony. Mixing with the tyrant’s own. Mixing with his hatred.

The Decepticon’s emotions bled into his field, filled it with hot, crackling energy. He pulled his in tight, even as excess charge from the attack jumped across his frame. The result was a suffocating cocoon, but Megatron ignored it. He ignored the furious squawks of the insects, their noisy tools and vehicles and contraptions. He cared for only one thing.

Megatron climbed to his pedes, letting out a long, deafening roar. He flared his EM field. The reaction was instantaneous.

The raw power spread across the entire valley, invading everything it touched. The gunfire ceased. Lights flickered before they went out, some exploding with a shower of sparks and glass. Humans flailed, ripping off their visors as they ceased to function. Others screamed as their commlinks were filled with ear-splitting white noise. The flock of noisy helicopters hovering over the titan went silent.

Megatron reached through the blood-bond, feeling the pulses of Jack’s consciousness reply. But they were growing fainter, slower…  _ dying _ .

No! Jack was not allowed to die! He alone decided the human’s fate, not  _ them _ !

The tyrant wrapped the claws of his mind around his pet’s in his vice grip, keeping it from slipping away. Jack was pulling back, either trying to escape or falling. Megatron followed the pull, moving forward in powerful strides. He did not care what lay in his path, whether it may be flesh or metal. Buildings that blocked his path were leveled with a few blasts of his fusion cannon.

Jack was quiet, so quiet, yet Megatron could still hear his bonded.

The Decepticon lord sent his servo into the concrete roof. It split apart under his blow with a terrible noise, caving inward in a shower of debris. There were shrieks from the occupants inside, only for the sound to cut off. Megatron loomed over the newly made entrance, his bright optics bathing it in a sinister crimson glow.

He was greeted with a human with dark irises and silverish fur, a white piece of garment over his clothing. The fleshling stared up at him with eyes as wide as moons and his mouth agape in a silent scream. In his hand was a wicked knife… hovering over Jack.

A violet haze covered Megatron’s vision, and his roar boomed, “ **_Wretched fleshling!”_ **

He drove a single claw into the human’s chest.

There was a violent jerk and red blood spilled from the fleshling’s mouth with a strange gurgling sound. The Decepticon watched with a sneer as the light faded from its eyes, leaving an empty, lifeless gaze. The body fell with a wet thump.

With his unstained servo, Megatron carefully plucked up Jack from the slab of a bed. He was covered in an ugly green, flimsy material. His skin had grown paler, and it was covered in wounds both healed and fresh. The young human did not react to warm metal around him, remaining limp and lifeless.

No, Jack was not dead.

There were still whispers of his thoughts filtering through the bond. The dark energon in Megatron’s spark pulsed in the presence of another’s.

The titan offlined his optics in concentration and tightened his hold on his pet, both physically and mentally. He dragged Jack’s consciousness to the surface, pushing it forward with his own. The dark energon in his blood churned, pulsing along with Megatron’s. Beating against the human’s heart.

Then finally Jack’s eyes flew open with a desperate gasp.

His lungs opened to allow fresh air, but his dry throat protested. He hacked violently, his body spasming out of control. Megatron merely held him tight to prevent the little thing from tumbling off his palm. It was almost a full minute until the coughs died to desperate wheezing, one of Jack’s arms hanging limp from the Decepticon’s servo.

**_“I have you now, my little one,”_ ** Megatron purred, both over the bond and through the air.

Jack’s gaze was unfocused, but he stirred at the words, pressing against the possessive palm. His eyes slid closed, and he fell limp once again. The warlord could hear the air cycling through his body and could feel the beating of his heart, in tandem with his own spark.

Megatron held the human against his chest. Where Jack belonged, by his side, in his servos. The Decepticon lord would destroy anyone foolish enough to dare take him.

Jack.

Was.

_ His. _

The overbearing roar of an engine filled the air. Following by several others, loud and irritating.

Megatron nearly rolled his optics. For all their speeches, they took their time. The dictator turned, to see blinding white lights erupting through the trees. Bright and obnoxious colors flashed in the moonlight. Autobots were not known for subtlety.

_ “Soundwave, I require a groundbridge,” _ he hailed, turning away from his long-hated enemies.

There were sounds of transformation, followed by furious bellows. Making sure the Autobots had a good view of Jack nestled in his palm, Megatron stepped through the groundbridge.

* * *

 

“NO! JACK!”

Arcee was helpless, forced to watch as Megatron once again stole her charge. The Decepticon lord sneered, fangs glinting evilly in the light of the swirling, groundbridge vortex. His gleaming crimson optics locked with hers, mockingingly, and then they were both  _ gone _ . The boy she promised to protect… and couldn’t.  She was responsible for him and yet again… she _ failed _ .  Miserably.

“ _ NOOO _ !” Arcee shrieked as she skidded to a halt where they had been moments ago, only to encounter  _ empty  _ air. 

She balled her servos into fists, clenching them tightly by her sides, gritting her denta as her body shook violently. Beside her, the assault team stood frozen. Bulkhead’s optics were wide in shock and Smokescreen stood frozen. Even Ironhide looked around in disbelief, his EM field pulled in tight. Optimus Prime stood stoic as ever, his lips pulled in a frown and his gaze hard.

After their disastrous encounter with Starscream, and Laserbeak’s escape, Ratchet and Arcee rushed back to the base. Colonel Lennox was reluctant the moment they told him Jack was taken to a foreign country, but was not surprised. As a fugitive, it would make sense, since Silas would hide as far as possible from American soil, where his pursuers could not reach him.

Arcee could scrap human customs. She was taking back her charge, no matter what stood in her way, Decepticon or human. Lennox seemed to have realized that, or he simply did not want to be on the receiving end of her wrath. 

“We can’t move into Albania,” he had said. “But you can… as long as you go quietly.”

It seemed that “quiet” had long been forgotten. The MECH base they had tracked from NEST’s satellites lay in shambles. Grooves cut through the ground and scorched craters scarred the earth. The burning wreckages of Humvees and helicopters littered the vicinity within a five mile radius. Grand warehouses were reduced to piles of rubble and military tents were turned to ash. 

Megatron did not seem to care for subtlety.  

It was obvious MECH had fought to the Pit. Bullet casings were everywhere along with dented, broken shells of missiles. Dark energon and crimson blood stained the concrete.  Charred, mutilated corpses of MECH soldiers were spread across the ruined base. 

“Well, there goes our window,” Ironhide finally broke the silence in a gruff voice. “Now what do we do?”

“Autobots!  Search the area.  There may be survivors…” the Prime regally ordered.

“Survivors?!” Arcee gawked, whirling around with blazing optics. “Look around, Optimus! Megatron  _ leveled _ the place!” She gestured to the destruction around them before continuing, “They took Jack! And how do we know know if they didn’t hurt him?”

Optimus’s gaze hardened at the femme’s harsh words. “They are still human, Arcee, whom we have sworn to protect.” Before she could say another word, he added, “One of the survivors may know what happened here.”

As if it wasn’t obvious. But Arcee knew better than to argue with her Prime. Her helm fell into a reluctant nod, and the Autobots slowly dispersed across the runs of the base.  Arcee obeyed her commander’s order but her sparked still burned, still thirsted, for retribution. She was so  _ close _ . The femme picked through the twisted remains, moving aside warped pieces of metal and chunks of concrete. She was painfully aware of the flesh that cluttered the ground, mindful of each step she took.

Arcee paused, her audials sharpening when what sounded like a low moan, came from a few paces away. The two-wheeler approached cautiously, weapons systems primed, but on standby.  She reached down and removed a thick sheet of burnt steel to find a barely conscious MECH soldier, hidden beneath the shredded remains of a camo-net. 

His eyes were half-lidded and blood escaped the corner of his mouth. He let out a harsh cough, and more of the red liquid spilled out. Arcee didn’t have to scan his broken body to know he was critically damaged, and likely did not have long to live.

“What happened here?” she demanded bluntly.

“A...s-silver...monster…” the man croaked, his eyes going wide at the memory. “It… came outta nowhere… s-started tearing ap-apart _ e-everyth-thing _ .”

The human started shuddering, gaze staring at nothing. Arcee moved so he was forced to look at her. She partly wondered if the shell-shocked soldier saw her metal skin or heard her robotic twang, She wasn’t sure if she was just traumatizing him more, considering one of her kind had sliced many of his comraces in half. But she needed answers,  _ now _ .

“What about a boy? Was he here?” she interrogated.

“S-Silas’s…. little lab rat. Gave him… t-to Mar-Marcus to play with.  H-heard the doc...was d-dissect-ing...his brain.”

Arcee froze.  _ Dissect _ ? As in--

She snatched the front of the human’s armor, pulling him closer so their faces were only inches apart. 

“What are you talking about? What do you mean by ‘play’?” she demanded. “What did you do to him?!”

“It’s a sh-shame…” The dying soldier cracked a weak, wicked smirk, revealing bloodied teeth. “His screams were funny…”

Arcee saw red. With a screech, she ejected her razor-sharp blade, raising high into the air to bring it down on the miserable fleshling--

“Arcee, no!”

Suddenly a large, strong servo snatched hers, bodily pulling her away from the MECH soldier. The two-wheeler twisted with a snarl, only to meet cold, blue optics.

“ _ What _ are you doing?” Optimus Prime demanded. 

“Getting results!” Arcee snapped back, her own optics blazing with fury.

“And breaking protocol.” The Autobot leader’s gaze narrowed sternly.” Autobots do not inflict harm unless all other options have been exhausted. It’s what separates us from the Decepticons.”

“This is not the time for lectures, Optimus! Megatron has Jack, and we’re squandering time here!”

“We _ will  _ save Jackson. I will not endanger innocent human lives.”

"Like you endangered Jack?!  We could have saved him before but YOU ordered us to ALLOW Megatron to take him prisoner!"  The femme hardly registered the other Autobots had gathered, summoned by the commotion. Instead, raw heat filled her chest, rising to her words. “And what about Cliffjumper, Tailgate?! I will not lose another partner to that  _ monster.  _ Don’t you realize you had the chance to pound Megatron into scrap?! Many chances, in fact!”

Optimus’s frame stiffened for the briefest of moments, but his EM field betrayed no emotion. Unlike the others around them, whose flared with shock. Ironhide’s flashed with anger, the ‘Bot growling dangerously at the insolent speech towards his leader, but Arcee did not care. She only glared at the Autobot leader, who merely closed his optics.

“I am afraid your desire to avenge your fallen comrades has impaired your judgement,” he replied solemnly. “I’m confining you to base until further notice.”

Instantly the fury melted away, Arcee’s optics widening as her wings flattened.

“What?” she gasped, her voice barely above a whisper. Then it raised back into a frantic yell, “No! You can’t do that! Jack is  _ my  _ partner! Please, Optimus!”

“Until you have learned to control your emotions, you have left me no choice.” His stone-like expression was unyielding even when facing her desperate one.

Arcee opened her mouth to refute, to refuse, that the Prime was being unfair. But she realized the Guardian Knight could be no such thing. She clipped her intake closed and her shoulders slumped pitifully as her dim gaze lowered to the ground.

“Fine…” she murmured, defeated.

Optimus frowned, his gaze softening for a fraction of a second. Then that stoic mask returned. “Ratchet, we require a groundbridge…” He turned back to Arcee. “Your comrades will do everything in our power to retrieve our friend, you have my word.”

The femme’s spark twisted. She hated the idea of someone else finding Jack before she could, when she had so much to say. What would he think of her? Was he waiting for her? Did he blame her?

Arcee’s fists clenched tightly as the bright groundbridghe opened before her. Stiffly, reluctantly, she stepped forward, but not without pausing, looking over the carnage Megatron had wrought. And now her charge was in that savage’s claws.

Arcee would get him back. No matter the cost.


	18. Safe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoo, longest chapter so far! Consider it making up all the chapters without Megatron. Or, I get my best inspiration when I’m procrastinating my exams. XD I debated about breaking this up until two chapters, but my beta and I agreed that breaking it up would just ruin the flow. So, enjoy an extra long chapter of fluff, traumatized Jack, and psychopathy Megatron.

Something was scratching the back of Jack’s neck. Long and sharp, rubbing gentle, but firm circles across his delicate skin. The boy shifted under the touch, only for a _deep_ ache to radiate across his body. His body felt heavy and numb. His hearing was muted and his vision was horribly blurry, like he was underwater. He only saw a pale light far above him. He blinked slowly. Then again. And again.

The world did not focus. Only that dim, alien glow remained. With a groan, Jack willed his body to move. He saw a shape move into his vision, and it took his mind a solid minute to realize it was his own arm. It felt like he was manipulating another’s limb—a weight that was not his own. The arm fell back down with a limp thud.

It was then a wave of feeling moved across his skin. He felt something soft and warm. Surrounding him. The boy clung onto the comforting sensation that seeped into his bones. Heat. It wrapped around him, like a cocoon.

Jack sunk into it. Maybe he could stay here. In this realm of warmth and comfort, surrounded by blissful nothingness. Where there was no pain, no cold, no cruelty, no suffering. Where he was _safe_.

He thought he heard a noise, but it was muffled against his ear.

“—ack?”

Jack blinked again at the distorted sound. He glanced back at the pale light, only to see a dark, menacing shadow looming over him.

Instantly terror seized his heart in a vice grip. No, no, no! He was _there_ , that horrible place! They weren’t done yet! They were going to hurt him!

With a wail, the prisoner ripped out of his cocoon. Only for something solid to seize his wrists. _No_! Jack screamed.

He flailed, he kicked and punched. He spat and hissed and screeched at the top of his lungs. But the firm hold never relented. It wrapped around his middle, pinning his arms to his sides. Pressing his back against something hard and unforgiving.

Jack fought against the iron hold like a rabid animal. Why, why couldn’t they leave him _alone_? What had he possibly done to deserve this?

Then suddenly something pierced the fog of his mind. Something dark and strong and possessive.

**_Enough._ **

Jack blinked. The world had come into focus. He was first aware of shadow. It completely surrounded him as solid, black walls. A pale glow illuminated the darkness, showing a void that stretched out before him. Underneath him was a soft, warm material, that sunk underneath his weight. What was—

Then he realized.

This was—

No, it wasn’t. This couldn’t be real. It was another dream. It was another bad dream.

It was then Jack became aware of the arms wrapped around him, keeping him in place. His back was pressed against the front of a solid frame. Razor-sharp denta scraped against his ear, hot ex-ventilations on his neck. Long, deadly claws ran through his hair, impossibly careful and gentle across his scalp. Suddenly that smooth metal wrapped around his face again, turning his head. Allowing him to meet burning red optics.

“M-M-Megatron…”

“I am here, my little one.”

It was then Jack became aware of his surroundings. He was in the _Nemesis_ , in Megatron’s quarters. He was on the warlord’s gigantic berth, in his arms. But instead of being the size of a building, the titan was no larger than a human. It made Jack’s brain reel in confusion until he remembered. While all Cybertronians could displace their mass, Megatron could do it better than others.

He lay beside the teenager, holding him possessively, which Jack’s head propped in the crook of his arm. There was a blanket wrapped around him, and the boy stiffened when he became aware of his bare skin. He was still wearing briefs, which was a minor relief, but it made him all the more confused.

“W-what…” Jack stammered, trying to form words, but his tongue would not work. His voice sounded terribly hoarse, like nails grating against each other.

Megatron stroked his greasy hair back, comforting. “No more harm will come to you, my pet. Those wretched humans are gone.”

Humans. MECH. His captors. His torturers.

“What…” he whispered again, shivering. Then it was like a wildfire filled his chest. His voice rose to a furious screech, “ _What took you so long_?!”

Without warning, Jack lunged forward, not caring that he managed to catch the former Champion by surprise. He pounded his fists against the metal being’s chest, as hard as he could.

“This is all _your_ fault!” Jack screamed. “They only took me because of the dark energon! Which you forced down my throat! They took me because of _you_! I hate you! _I hate you_!”

He ignored the pain that exploded from his hands and the blood that poured from his skin, sliced open by razor-sharp armor. The discomfort was so insignificant compared to all the _agony_ he had lived through. Megatron didn’t slap him away during the violent fit. The warlord merely brushed aside most of Jack’s attacks, but not roughly, as if he was careful not to harm the child.

It only made the traumatized teenager flail harder, trying to get away, trying to escape. Only for the metal arms trapping him to tighten.

“Get off me! Get off me!”

His pleas were ignored. Jack thrashed to free himself and shrieked like a rabid animal. But Megatron kept his hold, never flinching, never letting him go. He didn’t know how long his fit lasted, but exhaustion washed over him like a wave and his muscles burned with protest. Jack let out a sob of defeat and went limp, failing to stop his head from falling on the Decepticon’s hard shoulder. He panted heavily, his shoulders heaving as he desperately tried to fill his lungs. It took several long moments for him to speak.

“They tortured me,” Jack murmured breathlessly. Megatron made no reply, and with his face buried in the dictator’s armor, he couldn’t see his reaction. “They ripped me apart and put me back together and they did over and over and _over_ again.” Suddenly his vision blurred, and his voice cracked without his permission. “I tried to make them stop. I fought back, Megatron, I swear I did, but they wouldn’t _stop._ Even when I _begged_ them to _._ They wouldn’t listen to me—they just kept punching me and cutting me and electrocuting me. They tried to drown me and when that didn’t work th-they… they shoved in s-some _grave_.”

The teen’s body started to shake, and he wasn’t aware of his quivering voice. Gentle claws returned to massaging his scalp. Jack didn’t resist--couldn’t resist. He was too weak and the graphic images covered his vision. Until all he could see was a lifeless corpse.

“I… I k-killed someone,” he whimpered.  “I d-don’t know what ha-happened. It was so f-fast. I just remember I was s-so _angry_.” A painful lump formed in his throat as Jack trembled harder. He clung to edges of the tyrant’s armor, ignoring the metal digging into his fingers, too desperate to keep his hold on reality. “I… I-I was so s-s- _scared_.” A weird, strangled sob escaped the army brat’s throat. “I-I”m so, so s-sorry, Megatron. I was scared but I-I—” Another choke-like sound. “Th-they wouldn’t _stop_.”

Jack knew how weak he must have sounded, rambling in his broken voice. Megatron did not say a single word through it all, and it made his stomach twist with terror. Was the warlord angry with him?

The human had failed his mission. Megatron sent him to seek out MECH and bring back evidence. Now Jack was babbling about how he had _failed_. Was that why Megatron was quiet? Had he finally realized the boy was no use to him? Had he grown bored of his helpless pet?

Jack would not be surprised if the Decepticon leader decided to kill him and get it over with. The boy shuddered when he felt hot ventilations on his neck. He let out another odd, strained sound, braced for the end to come.

“Let go, Jack,” Megatron murmured in his ear, his gravelly tone impossibly soft.

The teenager started at the words, confused. What did he mean? Megatron _wasn’t_ going to kill him? After everything? After everything MECH did to him, after they—

A sob tore from Jack’s throat that he couldn’t stop it. It was then he became aware of tears spilling from his eyes, trailing down his cheeks. He tried to make it stop, but like everything else, it was useless. And then the dam in Jack’s mind came undone.

He cried. His sobs grew more and more violent, his shaking grew worse and worse, his eyes stung with tears. He spat curses, at Megatron, at MECH, and at the unfairness of the world. He wailed at the top of his lungs.

A part of Jack realized this was the second time he had a mental meltdown in the tyrant’s arms, but he didn’t have the will to care. Megatron didn’t relent his hold, and the teen felt the tendrils of a presence wrapping around him. The darkness cocooned him, lulling his mind with gentle waves of security and assurance, holding him possessively.

It was a long time until Jack’s sobs died down into pathetic hiccups, desperately gasping for air. His face red and his skin was cold. He curled into his pitiful blanket, using the corner to wipe the wetness from his face. He jumped when suddenly a claw brushed against his cheek, wiping away the tear there.

The boy was met with inscrutable crimson optics. He let out a quivering breath.

“H-how long was I gone?” he dared to ask, the only question his blurred mind was capable of processing.

Megatron was quiet for a long moment, then answered simply in a quiet rumble, “Ten of your Earth’s solar cycles.”

Jack froze as he translated the warlord’s words. Ten days. Ten days of constant, brutal torture. It had felt so much longer, but to _hear it_ —

The boy swallowed thickly. “How d-did you find me?”

“Soundwave is very resourceful.”

Jack’s eyes widened. “You… looked for me?”

Megatron mirrored his expression, cocking an optic ridge. “You would think I would not?”

The teen fidgeted then, wringing his hands. “I… I couldn’t feel you through our bond. I thought you were mad at me.”

He looked away, unable to meet those glaring optics. Only for a solid servo to cup his cheek, turning his head to look back into the titan’s gaze.

“Do you remember what I told you, Jack?” Megatron asked.

_“I will never abandon you, my Jack. You are mine, and mine alone. For all of time.”_

The army brat bit his lip, but his head fell into a nod.

“Say it.”

“…You said you would never abandon me.”

The Decepticon nodded slowly. “And I will keep my promise, my little one. They sought to steal you from me. And because of that, they were punished.”

Jack’s skin crawled as he digested the dangerous growl. The one that he knew all too well, that promised death to those that heard it. It was then he realized. He was held in the bowels of MECH’s base, always under lock and key and no doubt an army of trigger-happy maniacs surrounded him. If he was here, on the _Nemesis_ , then that meant…

“You… killed them, didn’t you?” Jack asked in a whisper.

“Indeed.”

The boy was silent for a long moment. “Is... Silas dead?”

“Perhaps.”

Jack frowned, balling up the blanket in his fists. The words came out before he could stop him. “He has to die, Megatron. Please tell me he’s dead.”

The Decepticon leader tilted his helm, blinking. “I assumed you were averse to violence.”

“...I’ll make an exception for him.” When Megatron merely stared, Jack’s gaze darkened, and he couldn’t keep the venom from his voice. “He _hurt_ me.”

Critical crimson eyes flickered across his face, a claw running across a mark across his cheekbone.

“Then he will be punished as well,” the tyrant decided darkly.

“And Dr. DiBiase.”

“Doctor?” When Jack nodded slowly, Megatorn let out a low cackle, that sounded like metal grating against each other. “Then be assured, my dear. I killed him when I found him holding a blade to your skull.”

Instantly the army brat’s blood turned to ice.  “He… tried to kill me?”

His guardian. The man that promised to watch over him. The only one that remained in his life, alongside Mom, after his father had been killed. Even moving from one side to the States, after all the death and tragedy, DiBiase was one of the few constants.

Now he was gone… Megatron had killed him, had robbed another loved one from Jack’s life. The teenager felt a rush of hot fury fill his chest, but it wasn’t towards the tyrant.

“B-Bastard,” he hissed. “I trusted him, and he _lied_ to me—”

“What one appears on the surface can appear vastly different than their true nature,” Megatron rumbled.

Jack trembled in rage and balled his hands into tight fist, nails biting his skin. “I-I loved him…”

“I doubt the feeling was mutual.”

“I feel so stupid…”

“No, you are merely human.”

Instead of a calming assurance, the tone was condescending, as if the flaw was obvious. As if being human was easily fixable.

Normally Jack would argue such insulting logic and remind the warlord of his hypocriticism. However, he didn’t have the energy or will for such a debate. He didn’t have such a chance as suddenly Megatron pulled away. The human couldn’t help but shiver as a cold void was left behind, having him curl further into his blanket.

He wished he had his warm clothes. His torturers usually tore them from his body to reach the fragile skin underneath, and he was rarely given spare ones. But what happened to them? How did Megatron find him, to take him in such a state? Was he that much in a hurry?

At least the warlord was still mindful of his humanity, by fishing out something to cover himself with. The interior of the _Nemesis_ never saw the warmth of the sun, and as the warship orbited the Earth high in the atmosphere, it was constantly chilled.

The sound of transformation stirred Jack from his thoughts as a heavy shadow fell over the poor boy. He was met with Megatron, returned to his full height, looming over him. He didn’t resist as claws carefully slipped underneath him, scooping him up off the berth. Jack clung to the titan’s thumb as he lumbered to the other side of the room, promptly depositing him on a flat surface.

Without another word, Megatron turned away, ducking into a sealed door in the corner of the room. Jack eyed what he was doing? Another dosage of dark energon? So soon? The boy wasn’t eager to have anymore anytime soon, not after Silas stole his necklace and injected him with it like it was a drug. Not after… what he _did._

It was all in a blur, but Jack could not push that graphic image from his mind. Marcus’s twisted body laying across the floor, a _deep_ wide cut spreading across his neck ear-to-ear. He had spasmed several times with wet gurgling sounds, his lungs demanding for air only to be filled with thick, suffocating blood. It had formed a pool underneath him, growing larger and larger as the fluids continued to gush from the lethal wound.

The wound Jack had inflicted. Suddenly the metal around him spun, and nausea seized him in a vice grip. He had to press his hand against the surface underneath him to keep himself steady. He _killed_ a human being. When he told that he would never be capable of such a thing, that he would save lives and never take them.

But… Marcus deserved it, right? He… was a monster. He cackled when Jack begged for mercy and laughed when the boy screamed. Sometimes he grew bored when the prisoner didn’t screech enough. Other times he would record a session with a camera, keeping it like it was some sick trophy.

Jack… _had_ to, didn’t he? It was the only way to make Marcus stop. But it was Silas that locked him in… in that _grave_ …

The boy was ripped from his thoughts as suddenly the world trembled in a slow, steady rhythm. his hair stood on end as a powerful EM field embraced him. His senses were still on alert, as he jumped when suddenly there was a heavy, dull thud beside him.

He recognized it as an energon cube, half-filled with a strange liquid. It was translucent, but it was murky with a strange fog.

“What’s that supposed to be?” Jack asked, scrutinizing the box that had to be the size of his room.

“You’re filthy,” Megatron merely commented, claws plucking him up into the air.

Oh. Jack supposed with the blood, sweat, and fear, he would have an unpleasant scent. Quite obviously his captors didn’t bother keeping up with his hygiene. DiBiase would usually wipe away the dirt and blood when he treated him, but that was as far as it went. Until Marcus came up with his own _solution_.

The teenager glanced down at the cloudy liquid with a skeptical frown. It looked like soap mixed with water…

_A large tub of water, taking up almost half of the cramped room, just like Marcus promised. Only his hair stood on end as frigid horror coursed through his body, as he saw white, jagged chunks floating across the surface._

Jack yowled.

Suddenly the solid black walls were replaced by a lifeless room, closing in and the teenager found it hard to breathe. Instantly the boy’s heart jumped to his throat. Instead of the broad servo, he felt cruel hands shoving him forward. The bath came closer. No, not again, not again!

“NO! Please! _Please_!” Jack begged, clinging onto metal plating.

He shivered madly, eyes shut tight. Then soothing, possessive waves washed over him.

“Hush now, my pet,” Megatron rumbled above him.

The grip around his thoughts tightened, as if to emphasize the words. The human felt the dull side of his claws rub his back, almost comfortingly. Jack let out a shuddering breath, beginning to calm underneath the touch. He slowly, reluctantly, loosened his vice grip on the Decepticon’s armor. He forced his eyes open, forcing his tense muscles to relax as Megatron lowered him into the cube.

He couldn’t help but flinch as his foot was sucked up by the liquid, but instead of frigid claws, heat radiated up his leg. Jack blinked and in the next moment he found himself nearly waist deep in the strange fluid. An almost semi-sweet, tangy scent filled his nostrils as he sank further into it, but it was different than human soap. It was warm, but not scalding.  

“W-What is this?” Jack dared to ask, unable to keep the hesitant tremble from his voice,

“Rest assured, little one, the solvent should not affect your flesh,” Megatron merely explained matter-of-factly. “I will give you some time.”

With that, the warlord move away, turning his back as he went to meddle with something on the other side of the room. Jack’s heart quickened at the sudden absence of that powerful EM field, but he was grateful Megatron understood human culture enough to respect his privacy. Even though, he kept his thin article of clothing on as he turned his attention to his own body.

Jack carefully splashed the solvent over his skin, washing away the layer of filth. Not having any materials, he used his palm to brush away more stubborn grime clinging to him. He vigorously scrubbed every single inch of his body, trying to get every spec of dirt and blood off of him. He ended up washing the same parts twice, but could still see the blood staining his skin—which was littered with pink and pale marks. Some were redder than others.

The teen swallowed thickly and tried not to focus on it. He didn’t know how long he lingered in the bath, only that his skin had long turned into prunes. Jack was surprised Megatron had remained so patient.

Not wanting to test it any further, the human moved towards the edge of the cube. The rim wasn’t terribly high—the teen could probably pull himself over. However, his legs felt numb and his hands shook without his permission. It was a struggle just to move the few steps and Jack didn’t trust himself.

His idea of it was humiliating, but the image of him landing on his head was even more so. He swallowed and it took him a moment to get his tongue to work.

“M-Megatron?” Jack called, his voice quiet and hesitant. “I-I need help.”

He didn’t have to wait long. The solvent’s surface began to shake as the titan neared and a silent shadow cloaked over the shivering boy. Silver claws encased him and the warm embrace retreated. Jack then found himself on a cool metal surface, exposed to the chilly air that bit at his wet skin.

With chattering teeth, he scrambled for the discarded blanket and promptly draped it over his shoulders. Deciding it could double as a towel, the teen used it to wipe the dampness from his body. It didn’t absorb it like cotton—Jack realized the material wasn’t cotton at all. It was soft and flexible, but it was smooth and shiny, like metal. Mesh, maybe?

As the human struggled to dry off, Megatron unsubspaced something—it looked like a box, no bigger than the dictator’s palm.

“These should prove useful to you,” he rumbled as he set it down before Jack.

The boy eyed the chest curiously. It looked to be the same material and mechanism as the little box Megatron had given him for his birthday, but larger. Jack’s stomach twisted at the memory. How many days ago was that? Nearly two weeks? It felt like a lifetime had passed.

Shoving down the thought, he cautiously stepped forward, pressing against the switch to open the odd chest. The lid folded back with a hiss, and Jack’s eyes widened.

“H-how did you get this?” he stammered, as he delicately picked up the clothes within.

He scrutinized the material, trying to find the tiniest flaw, but it was real. A pair of jeans and a dull grey sweater, just like his favorite one. Megatron grinned at Jack’s amazement.

“Soundwave’s symbiotes can be clever,” the Decepticon warlord said simply, as if it explained everything.

It just made Jack even more confused. The Decepticons went out of their way to get this, just for him? How? He certainly couldn’t picture Laserbeak or Ravage browsing the racks at JCPenney’s. The human decided not to ask further, as he knew he would never get a clear answer. Instead, his lips pulled in the beginnings of a smile.

“Th-thank you, Megatron,” he stammered. He began to pull the articles of clothing over himself. The cotton was soft and cozy against his skin, warding away the cool air.

“It is only natural I will take care of the needs of my pet.”

Once Jack was fully dressed, Megatron extended his servo. The boy braced to be manhandled again, only to blink in surprise when the servo pressed against the surface before him. Before he could comment, there gears and plating shifted, and the metal hand began to shrink. The human blinked when Megatron’s shrunken form stood before him once again.

The Decepticon lord waved a single claw, and Jack did not dare defy the order, hesitantly moving forward. He couldn’t help but pause when he brought up his sharp talons, only to watch with fascinated horror as Megatron sank his fangs into his own wrist. Bright, violet liquid seeped from the wound.

Instantly Jack’s stomach twisted painfully and his knees weakened. The dreaded itch returned, cold and burning at the same time, seeping into his bones. He knew he shouldn’t feel this way. There was already a fresh dosage of dark energon in his veins, and he knew he had gone longer with it. But the boy did not have a solid meal for over a week, other than the few meager bites his captors had forced down his throat.

He was _starving_.

“Come, my little one,” Megatron beckoned, in a sickly seductive tone.

Whatever was left of Jack’s sanity screamed in repulsion, that it was disgusting-- _taboo_. But like every time, the overwhelming feeling of powerlessness washed over him, drowning any logic thought lingering in his mind. And Jack found he didn’t care.

He drank, and this time he didn’t notice the vile taste. He was only faintly aware of claws tangling in his hair. Jack pulled away, coughing from his burning throat. His gut was still a tight knot, and he found himself wrapping his arms around his middle.

“I-I’m sorry,” the boy stammered, even though he didn’t know what he was apologizing for.

Megatron had shifted to not even a tenth of his size to his full height and back again. No doubt he had burned through his energon reserves. The warlord only had so much of the dark energon, collected from his interstellar travels, and like Jack, it was the only fuel his body would accept. The teenager couldn’t comprehend why he would risk sharing so much with a human like him.

Like he could read his thoughts, Megatron flashed his fangs, purring, “It is alright, little one. I have enough to sustain us both.”

Jack needed no further encouragement after that. He had his fill, his veins tingling with renewed energy. The frigideness in his skin had vanished. His body felt heavy, and he found himself clinging onto a strong arm for support‍.

Megatron pulled the human closer, pressing his body against the bold and proud Decepticon insignia of his chest. The metal pulsed underneath Jack’s fingertips, in tandem with the titan’s sick spark. Identical to Jack’s own heartbeat.

Echoes of the blood-bond reverberated across his mind, quieting his own frantic thoughts. With impossibly gentleness, a single claw stroked through his hair and down his spine. Jack pushed down the reflex to shudder and instead leaned into the touch. The young human curled into the possessive cocoon and his eyes slid shut.

It was the first time, in a very long time, that Jack felt safe. 

* * *

Jack slept.

His sleep was long and heavy, spending most of the day cemented to Megatron’s ridiculously huge berth. Sometimes it was an escape, a chance for the boy to sink into the void of nothing where reality did not exist. Other times, he would find himself trapped in nightmares. Their horrors had evolved. Jack would run through the streets of Cybertron as the world crumbled around him, only to find himself surrounded by metal, _imprisoned_. Voices taunted him—sadistic sneers, false assurances, sinister growls. The teen would scream at the top of his lungs, begging someone to find him, to save him.

Each time, the darkness answered, pushing away the terror. Jack would wake up in Megatron’s arms or in his huge servo, shaking and sweating and crying. The fear that filled his senses would be stomped down, replaced by waves of protective possessiveness.

His waking hours were spent in a bland routine, taking his dosage of dark energon when given and quietly bathing himself in solvent. Megatron would occasionally give him gifts from the surface, either new clothes or even a treat of solid food (though it was no more than a few bites). The frail teenager steadily grew stronger, walking more and more on his own. Eventually he was able to climb out of the bath on his own, so the Decepticon leader would return to find a shiny and dry Jack waiting for him.

Although his muscles were rejuvenated with fresh energy, his mind remained in a fog. The teen found himself trapped in a loop, thinking of the same negative thoughts over and over. Megatron would speak to him, but the growls blurred together and Jack didn’t know how to continue the debate. Eventually the dictator would grow bored and the human was left in silence.

Jack’s heart would begin to quicken whenever the glaring alien light faded into darkness, and he felt the blackness pressing against him, suffocating him. It was worse whenever Megatron left. Panic would seize the teenager in a vice grip, making it difficult to even breathe. He would find himself trapped in silence and darkness, _alone_.

Overcome by terror, Jack would scream and scream. He wailed Megatron’s name, like a lost toddler crying for a parent. Either hearing him or feeling the onslaught through the blood-bond, the Decepticon would return. Waves of comforting darkness would wash over the distraught boy as Megatron held him. Sometimes it took longer that others for the utter terror to epp away. Much like when Jack was a captive of MECH, days blurred together. Only this time he did not bother trying to keep track.

The boy was nestled in the warm material of the berth, trying to slip into the embrace of sleep. He was jostled by the sound of heavy pedes, starting awake. With a grumpy groan, Jack blinked his eyes open, only to be greeted with silver claws. Still half-asleep, the teenager didn’t have the energy to resist as Megatron snatched him up into the air. He was secured against the tyrant’s chest, claws wrapped tightly around him

“Wh-where we goin’?”” Jack slurred, blinking rapidly to rid of his blurry vision.

“You shall see, my dear,” Megatron replied simply.

He strode down the hallways of the _Nemesis_. From his metal cage, Jack couldn’t see much, only shapes passing by, chattering in Cybertronian—most likely the drones. Then suddenly the suppressing darkness vanished, replaced by blinding, warm light.

It burned Jack’s eyes, eliciting a violent hiss. He squinted and shielded his face with his hands. He felt ridiculous, hiding away from the light when he lived in a desert of all things. But after weeks in nearly total darkness, he had forgotten what it even felt like—

Jack blinked. Wait—

The teenager slowly lowered his arms, forcing himself to glance up. The light was still glaring, but he felt gentle, comforting warmth touching his face. Jack smiled at the sun.

“Beautiful thing we take for granted, is it not?”

Instead of that deep, deadly tone, the sentence was soft— _longing_. It sounded almost displaced, making Jack turn to see if it was still Megatron still looming above him. The tyrant was staring at him with that intense crimson gaze. The human wondered if he was recalling his life as a lowly miner, not seeing the sun for vorns.

Jack didn’t know to reply—he wasn’t sure Megatron wanted one. He never had the chance, as suddenly the Decepticon lord took a mighty, jarring step forward, then launched himself high into the air. Before Jack could even work up a scream, there was the grinding of gears of transformation. Metal moved around him, sealing him off from the outside world.

Megatron had no interest in taking in a human disguise, so he had no cockpit, no windows. Jack found himself in a cocoon of metal, the sides pressing against him. He pushed against plating and wires, feeling energon pulsing through the giant’s veins underneath his palms. A deep hum reverberated around him, drowning out any other sound. Jack blinked, trying to adjust to the darkness, but it did not go away. It was painfully hot, making it difficult to breathe.

_The prisoner pounded against the walls of his prison with all his might, turning his bruised knuckles raw and bloody._

Jack cried out, “No, wait! Megatron, put me down! I don’t like this!”

A monstrous roar was his only reply, the cocoon shuddering around him. The boy whimpered as his organs fell to his feet, telling the Cybertronian was doing the complete opposite of his plea.  Jack thrashed, but it was hard to move.

“Megatron! Stop, stop! Let me go! _Please_!”

The teen rose his voice to a desperate scream, but still there was no reply. Instead, he felt a presence brush against his. Jack instinctively ducked into the safe recesses of his mind, only for the darkness push harder.

 ** _Do not fear, my pet_**.

Jack was trembling, torn between stubbornly ignoring Megatron or allowing his will to embrace him. He felt the warlord’s mind wrap around his—firm, but not painful or dominating. It merely swatted his negative emotions away, and the boy forced himself to unwind. Only when he did, the darkness sunk into his thoughts.

Jack stiffened. _What are you doing? Stop!_

Instead, Megatron twisted pieces of his mind and shoved others away, like the human’s psyche was clay to be molded and thrown away if it was ugly. Jack resisted, throwing useless thoughts and memories at the invader. He should have known. He should have known Megatron was up to something. It was why he gave Jack dark energon in the first place.

To turn him into the perfect little pup—

The thought was banished before he could even finish it. The darkness’s hold turned a vice grip. Jack thought of home, of Mom and Raf and Miko—and Arcee…

**_I am your home now._ **

It was Megatron that saved him from the clutches of MECH. It was Megatron that reaped vengeance on his captors. The tyrant brought him to sanctuary, fed him, washed him, comforted him. Megatron would never let him go. They would be together, for all of time.

**_Let go, Jack._ **

The teenager let out a single sob, and the sliver of humanity he had left slipped from his hold. Immediately Megatron’s mind cascaded over his own, replacing his thoughts with dark, twisted ones. Jack gritted his teeth at the onslaught, fingers digging into metal plating. He felt the cruel tyrant’s anger, ambition, hatred… his admiration. For a wet, muddy planet, Earth had scenery that the metallic Cybertron could never replicate.

Far above the surface, the land below was painted in patches of colors, from green to blue to red to yellow. It was flat, stretching in all direction until it bent to meet the horizon. Far from civilization, only a handful of human structures rose from the earth. But Megatron was not interested in them.

He tilted upwards, higher into the atmosphere. Above the clouds, the air was colder, and far thinner. The wind beneath his wings was weak, but it was just enough to lift him higher into the air, defying the tyrannical hold of gravity. For those in the sky followed no laws.

He still had to be mindful of the frail human tucked within his subspace. If he applied too much force, it would surely injure Jack. He did not go through so much trouble to reclaim his pet only to lose him due to brashness. Bound in the coils of their bond, Megatron felt the boy’s fear, but it wouldn’t be there for long. Jack would enjoy this.

Without another thought, Megatron dove, angling his front towards the ground. He felt gravity try to regain its grip on him, pulling him down faster and faster. Having an idea, the flyer twisted corkscrewing through the atmosphere, the sky and earth flipping back and forth like someone was playing with a switch. Wet condensation touched his wings as the clouds raced by in white streaks. It was replaced by roaring wind, whirling around him and drying his soaked plating in seconds.

A plain of lush green came closer and closer, until it filled his entire vision. Just when his heavy frame was about to slam into the planet, Megatron pulled back up. The roar of his afterburners thundered across the land. Trees violently whipped in the air as he flew over the canopy, the wind from his speed alone nearly bending them in half.

Jack trembled, but this time it was not from terror. Good. He was learning what defined the difference between a flyer and one trapped to the ground. But the ignorant human knew nothing yet.

Megatron tilted up until he was nearly vertical. Instantly the lift from his wings vanished, and he felt the planet’s invisible claws wrapping around him, trying to drag him down. His first instinct was to redirect all his energon to his thrusters for maximum power and break free. No, it would terminate Jack.

Instead, Megatron contained himself as he forced himself higher and higher. Between the pull of gravity and the atmosphere slapping against him, it was not a pleasant flight. He had to physically tighten his hold on Jack to prevent the human from jostling too violently. The sky around him darkened more and more, it grew colder and colder, and the atmosphere became so thin he instinctively closed his vents.

Then, finally, he was free of Earth’s clutches.

Instantly Megatron slowed his rapid ascension and leveled out. Two different views greeted him. One was filled with light, glowing brilliantly in a bluish-white glow. There were dark shapes within the glow, asymmetrical blotches mixing together to form a living, organic thing. The other was utter black, deep and unending. It too was filled with shapes, but these were burning like distant fires. Thousands and thousands of them, coming together to form a colorful, endless canvas of stars.

For the universe had no limit. Earth was so small and insignificant compared to the vastness of space. Merely a tiny rock floating among giants. Far beyond the stars, between two beacons of light, was Cybertron. His home was dead, but Megatron would see it restored to life. It would return to its brilliant beauty, glowing golden once again.

Megatron hovered for several long moments, lingering on the edge of the atmosphere and the edge of space. Both spread before him, both showing him all their secrets.

The Decepticon would have stayed in orbit for joors, but he did not have that luxury of time. He banked, sinking back into the alien atmosphere. He loathed it when gravity seized hold of him once again, but he merely had to remind himself he could break free whenever he liked. Megatron floated back down in wide, lazy circles.

One by one, the stars disappeared. The view of the universe was swallowed up by the clouds, replaced by the bright blue of the oceans. Eventually the great mass of the _Nemesis_ came into view, a menacing beast flying above its prey, waiting for the hunt to begin.

A squadron of Eradicons was returning from patrol, but they politely made way for their lord. Megatron did not need to show his gratitude, instead angling towards the flight deck. He transformed, landing squarely on his pedes. He caught Jack in his claws before the fleshling face-planted onto the solid metal. He retracted the bond, allowing the teen’s thoughts to rise to back the surface.

Jack let out a desperate gasp, heaving as fresh air filled his lungs. Disorientation washed over him like a tidal wave. He could only see something smooth and solid around him, something ripping at his clothes. There was a rumbling sound above him, but he couldn’t discern what it was.

He was only aware of the sensation of wind rushing around him. How he rose above the clouds. How he _flew_.

Jack recalled the feeling of weightlessness as he ignored the laws of physics. Soaring far above the Earth, like nothing could touch him. Not the Autobots, not the Decepticons, not MECH. It sent a rush through his veins. His body tingled and his mind was light, in a high he had never felt before.

Jack tried to return to reality, remind himself where he was, but only a giggle escaped. He attempted to muffle the strange sound, only to let out another chuckle. The teen realized he couldn’t stop himself, falling into euphoria as his cackles turned into hysterical laughter. Tears sprung from his eyes and he wrapped his arms around his middle, as his belly seized with pain. It wasn’t until his howls turned into hiccups that Jack managed to calm down.

The teenager panted heavily, trying to regain his breath. It took several moments to remember how to form words.

“That… that was… amazing,” he gasped, a goofy smile across his lips. “It felt… like I was… I was flying!”

Megatron merely looked amused as he watched his pet roll back and forth in his palm. Jack realized he must have looked ridiculous, being so giddy over something that was so natural for the great jet. But as a human, Jack could not even fathom such sensations, until they had all cascaded over him.

He had felt _free_.

 


	19. Loose Cannons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back, baby! Sorry for the long disappearance, everyone. I was busy with school and personal life, so I had to put my writing on hold for a little while. And to be honest, I had slight haitus for this story. I know where I want to the plot to go, but I had difficulty figuring out how to get there. Maybe that's why I can't satisfied with this chapter, but I hope you guys enjoy!

Megatron took Jack flying two more times after that. Each one filled him with as much excitement as the first. Jack was more willing to surrender his mind to the warlord’s will, even though there was always the panicked voice screaming at him. The one taking him flying was still Megatron, and he was allowing the tyrant to take complete control over his heart. He was able to replace Jack’s existence with his own. What if the boy closed his eyes in the titan’s hold, and never woke up?

It was a fear he refused to share with Megatron, not even through their link. Instead, Jack spent most of his time beside the Decepticon leader. Megatron would allow him to wander away from the berth, letting him pace restless energy off across a desk. The human would perch himself onto a console, watching as alien script scroll across the screen as the dictator completed his work. Megatron must have caught him staring, because he brought the boy out of his stupor and pointed towards a Cybertronian glyph.

“What?” the teenager mumbled.

“Can you read this?” Megatron asked.

Jack gave the glyph a long, hard stare. His skull throbbed with the beginnings of a headache. It was nothing like a letter in English—or a character from any language. Still, after a moment, the teen came up with an answer.

“’Lord,’” he read. “And I guess the next bit is your name?”

“Very good, boy.” Megatron smiled. Suddenly the harsh vowels of English were replaced by odd clicks and whirrs. _“From this point on, you will speak only in Cybertronian.”_

Jack was given reading lessons after that. Cybertronian was nothing like English, not even possessing the same sounds, and when it was written down, it was even more complicated. The lines would blur together in alien shapes, some nearly identical, yet had completely different definitions. Megatron would show him an odd-looking glyph and quiz him on its meaning, and some took longer than others for Jack to reply. If he made a mistake, Megatron would patiently correct him.

When they weren’t reviewing the odd characters, Jack talked to the titan about more idle things. The Decepticon was not afraid of describing Cybertron to the human, of how beautiful it was. Megatron told how towers scraped across the sky as far as the optics could see, and how proud and lively the mighty race once was. The human even managed to convince the warlord to tell a few war stories, some even dating back to his gladiatorial days, as the Champion of Kaon.

It made Jack wonder. He was dozing on Megatron’s lap, sprawled across a broad thigh as the warlord tinkered with a datapad, when a particular thought crossed his mind.

“Megatron?”

“Hmm?”

“How—” Jack caught himself mid-sentence and corrected himself. _“How_ _did you become a gladiator?”_

Jack had seen the Decepticon leader’s memories, when Megatron forced him into a cortical psychic patch to see the twisted mind within. He had watched the tyrant’s rise to power, from a nameless miner to the Champion of Kaon to Lord of the Decepticons, to his descension into madness. However, it was all too much, too foreign, for the human to comprehend.

Megatron paused at his question, withdrawing his claws from the datapad as he titled his helm in thought. For a moment, Jack thought he would disregard him, then the warlord answered, _“I was sold.”_

Jack felt something in chest twist at that. He remembered when Arcee had told him how those from the lowest of the castes were mistreated. How their T-cogs would be ripped out of them, how their bodies would be left to rust, how they were erased from history as if they didn’t exist. But a living, sentient being… sold? Like slaves? Like they were just… property?

He must have been projecting his misgivings through the bond, because Megatron went on to explain, _“Those among the mining class were given the same standards as those that lived as servants. We would go wherever our ‘masters’ desired. I was transferred between mines twelve times, merely to fill the quality of demand.”_

 _“Then…”_ Jack felt uncomfortable with the question, like he was overstepping a line.

He had _never_ heard Megatron speak so openly about his slavery before. He realized this was his only chance to answer the questions he had for so long, but he did not know how long the former gladiator’s patience would last. Jack swallowed and summoned his courage.

“ _How did you get into the arena?”_

 _“I got into a… **confrontation** with some of my fellow miners. Though the law required anyone that instigated a riot in the mines was to be terminated, my… supervisor was impressed I did not need a weapon to finish my enemies.”_ Megatron sounded quite smug at that, lips curling to flash sharp fangs. However, they flattened to a frown as he continued, _“My master owed debts to the… **owners** of the Pits, and I was his payment.”_

“Oh.”

Jack didn’t know how to respond to that. From the moment he was created, Megatron never had a choice. He was expected to do what he was told, whether he liked it or not, even if it meant dying for others’ entertainment. The teenager could understand how that bitter resentment gave him the strength to break free of his chains and be the master of his own fate.

How could so many be _okay_ with it, for so _long_? Did the High Council not see the discontent of its citizens? Did the Prime not see his people were suffering? Jack swallowed, as he remembered the answer to that. Zeta Prime had spent most of his time locked away in his personal palace in the golden towers of Iacon. He rarely interacted with his people, and _never_ visited its lower castes. It was only when the gladiators rose in revolt, did they gain his attention. Only for Zeta Prime to send an army to squash the rebellion. He didn’t expect Megatronus to fight back.

It was then another thought entered Jack’s mind, one he had failed to consider when he awoke. He had been disoriented, filled with raw emotions, and now…

It took some time for the human to gather his courage again, asking meekly, _“Megatron… the Autobots.”_ He stiffened when burning vermillion optics turned to him, but he forced himself to keep going. _“Did they… look for me?”_

Did Miko and Raf make it out, find their guardians? Did the Autobots search for their lost friend? Jack didn’t expect Megatron to know the answer, or even care. The warlord was quiet for a few moments in thought.

 _“No,”_ the Decepticon finally answered. _“Soundwave has failed to detect any activity from them.”_

It hurt. Jack didn’t know why it hurt, but it did. Like Marcus had taken his vile knife and drove it into his heart. He knew he shouldn’t be surprised. The Autobots were bound by the red tape of the US government. Besides, Arcee made it clear to him she never wanted to see him again.

Jack swallowed thickly, feeling that dark cycle of thoughts trying to creep into the forefront of his mind. He wanted it to go away.

“ _C-can we go flying again?”_ he asked hesitantly.

Megatron looked down at him a moment more, then hummed. He scooped up his pet in his servo and stood, the sound of pulling wires filling the air. Jack blinked as the titan raised him higher, next to his pauldron. He met that crimson gaze, eyes widening. Megatron merely nodded.

Then carefully, hesitantly, Jack climbed from the safety of the titan’s palm to his spiked shoulder. The metal was uneven, but sturdy. Jack clung to its sharp curves to stay in place as Megatron began moving again. They journeyed through the dark halls of the _Nemesis_ , but Jack’s heart began to race with excitement to see the light.

Only when Megatron rounded a corner, the warlord came to an abrupt halt. Curious, Jack stirred, peeking out of his nest. Only to meet violet, compound optics.

Instantly the black walls around him vanished, replaced by the eerie shadows of a forest. When he had run for his life, from the monster that hunted him down like prey. It was only because of Acree he survived. But his guardian could not stop her from threatening after his family.

 _“What is it, Airachnid?”_ Megatron demanded in a grumble.

Jack wondered if his terror bled through the blood-bond. Airachind’s wicked gaze shifted from the little human to her lord.

 _“Forgive me for my disturbance, my liege,”_ she murmured humbly. _“You did not answer my hails.”_

_“I was **busy**.”_

If the Insecticon heard the dangerous tone, she did not pay it mind, instead continuing with her report.

_“A Decepticon distress signal has been detected.”_

Megatron seemed bored at the news, blinking slowly before hypothesizing, _“An Autobot trick?”_

 _“Perhaps,”_ Airachnid admitted, even nodding along, _“but unlikely.”_

_“Why is that?”_

_“Because the signal has been identified as Dreadwing’s.”_  

* * *

Wheeljack was having a bad day.

One of the twin engines of the _Jackhammer_ had gone out, and when he scrambled to correct his out-of-control spaceship, it was caught in a nearby planet’s gravity. The stress was too great for the little vessel and its other engine went out. The _Jackhammer_ spiraled down to the brown and muddy surface of the planet in a fiery inferno. It was certainly one of the hardest crash-landings Wheeljack had in his life. And he had a lot of hard landings.

Now the Wrecker found himself in a scrap against a moody Decepticon. The same one that destroyed his _Jackhammer._ Wheeljack was nestled in the burning wreckage of his precious vessel, trying to avoid the energon fire raining down on him.

Gritting his denta, Wheeljack dared to raise himself above his shelter and fire back. There was a blur of blue as his opponent dashed away from the superheated bolts. He was making a dash toward the wicked remains of his own ship, the _Vengeance_ , but Wheeljack would not let him get away so easily.

He had traveled across the entire galaxy for this.

“ _You got nowhere else to run, Dreadwing!”_ the Autobot roared.

Throwing caution to the wind, he leaped out of his cover, a small cylinder in his servo. His finger pressed against the detonator, and the deadly device let out a piercing ring. With a wicked smirk, Wheeljack rose the grenade high above his helm before tossing it with all his might. It didn’t explode when it struck the black metal of the Decepticon vessel, but rather fell to the ground in a series of metallic _clinks_. It was the only warning that Dreadwing got, but he was not fast enough.

The night was filled with crimson light as a ball of flame erupted. The blast of the grenade caught the fuel tank of the ship, igniting the storage of energon in a mighty explosion. Wheeljack only laughed in triumph as the colemn of fire climbed into the night sky. _Finally!_ Vengeance _at last_! All those Autobots could rest in peace, now that their murderer was dead.

 _“No honor, just like the rest of your kind,”_ a cool, calm voice called out, ruining Wheeljack’s victorious mood. _“You refuse to fight your opponent fairly.”_

Wheeljack cursed. This was going to be long fight. Dreadwing must have hidden behind a piece of the wreckage, to protect him from the worst of the explosion. Not to mention the Decepticon had heavy armor to protect his frame. The Wrecker’s armor bristled in rage as he watched a tall, dark figure step out of the inferno.

Dreadwing was bulky for a Seeker. Rather than a thin, flexible frame made for agility and flight, he was broad-shouldered and towered over the short and stocky Autobot. Broad, sleek wings extended from his back, twitching in the cool air. His armor was a deep blue, with gold touches lining the plating. The Decepticon shield was bold and broad across his chestplate, with golden bars extending from it to represent his high status of a commander of the Decepticon Aerial Corps.

Wheeljack let out a savage growl. _“You killed my friends! Now I’m going to make you pay!”_

Dreadwing smirked, cold and cruel. _“I am afraid not, foolish Autobot. Soon you will join them in the AllSpark!”_

Without warning, the Seeker reached behind his back, taking hold of his own weapon. In his claws was a massive cannon, so large and heavy he needed both servos to compensate its weight. The wicked barrel was aimed at Wheeljack, and the Autobot could hear the hum of its battery from across the clearing.

He instinctively flinched to move out of the way, but Dreadwing was faster. Wheeljack let out a wail as scorching heat struck his dorsal plating. The superheated energon melted his sturdy armor and vaporized some of the sensitive wires underneath. Plating automatically clamped down, trying to protect his sensitive protoform from further damage. Wheeljack’s heels dug into the earth, trying to keep himself grounded in place. He was not going to fall so easily.

The Wrecker let out a savage growl of fury. He ducked away from the onslaught, unsheathing his twin swords from his back. With a harsh battle cry, charging forward. He leaped back and forth like a mech-deer, forcing his way through the volley of energon, even when some bolts dug into his armor.

With another scream, Wheeljack soared high into the air, raising his blades high above his helm. He fell back to the earth, bringing his weapons down on his prey. Only for a broadsword to clash against his swords.

There was a terrible metal on metal noise, sparks flying into the air. Wheeljack’s momentum sent Dreadwing stumbling back, but the Decepticon dug his heels in to stay in place. The large Seeker proved to be stronger, giving the Wrecker a rough shove. The silver mech caught his balance and ducked, just managing to avoid getting decapitated from the Decepticon’s monster sword.

Wheeljack took advantage of Dreadwing’s open defenses, sending a flurry of slices at his chest. The Seeker hissed in pain, reeling back from his strikes. The Wrecker twisted his swords to bury it in his rival’s spark, to finish their fight once and for all. Only when he did, Dreadwing twisted, planting a solid kick to his middle.

Wheeljack wheezed as he was sent back, skidding across the ground to come to a halt. He shifted back into a battle stance, braced to meet his opponent once again. Only when Dreadwing raised his massive cannon again, a deep, sinister roar came from the skies.

The Decepticon grinned and the Autobot groaned. His day couldn’t get any _worse_.

Wheeljack glanced up, to see a titanic mass flying towards them at an impossible speed. Dread settled in his tanks. He recognized that ugly shape anywhere. His suspicions were confirmed, when silver glinted in the moonlight. Then the Cybertronian jet shifted.

Megatron landed square on his pedes with a deafening slam, the very earth shaking at the force of impact. The tyrant’s deadly fangs gleamed menacingly, his hellish optics burning in the darkness. He confidently took a step forward, the stone cracking beneath his heavy weight. Wheeljack had seen the fiercest of warriors turn tail at the sight of the Decepticon leader, terrified for their lives. He was not one of those mechs.

 _“So the Big Guy finally got off his throne to come dance. I’m flattered,”_ the Wrecker quipped, crossing his swords in front of his battle-mask.

Megatron eyed him with a squinted gaze, as if he was trying to place the Autobot. _“Wheeljack… the one that likes explosive devices.”_

_“What can I say, chief? I’m uncouth.”_

The dictator merely grumbled, but said nothing more. Instead, Megatron turned to Dreadwing. Instantly the Decepticon captain dropped to his knees, placing his right fist over his spark and bowed his helm low, not daring to meet his lord’s optics. It filled Wheeljack with disgust and rage, that his opponent was so abruptly forgot they were in the heat of battle.

 _“Lord Megatron, I live to serve_ **,”** Dreadwing groveled.

 _“Rise, dear Dreadwing,”_ Megatron hummed. He hardly offered a glance. _“Loyalty such as yours is a rare commodity.”_

_“Mine runs deep and true. But it is not loyalty alone that has brought me here.”_

_“Oh?”_

_“Even across the galaxy, I felt the demise of one whom I considered my brother. We shared the same spark—two halves of one whole.”_ It was then Dreading’s crimson optics flashed, the Seeker turning his heated glare towards Wheeljack. “ _I seek to avenge the death of my twin, Skyquake.”_

The Wrecker only smirked at the deadly tone, mocking the Decpeticon’s rage. _“I wouldn’t know anything about that, but if the Autobots did it, then I’m sure they had a pretty good reason.”_

His response didn’t seem to make Dreadwing any happier, the Seeker raising his cannon with a savage growl. _“And my revenge will start with you, Wrecker.”_

 _“Swiftly,”_ Megatron merely ordered. _“I have other **things** to attend to.”_

Dreadwing gave a wicked grin when the arrogant tyrant said the words, his cannon already letting out an eager hum to lay waste to his opponent. He never got the chance.

Without warning, little pellets assaulted Wheeljack’s back, burying into white playing and vulnerable gaps. He yelled, more out of surprise than pain, clamping down his armor to protect delicate protoform. There were startled huffs from the Decepticons, accompanied by little _clinks_ , signaling they were receiving the same treatment. He whirled around, only to be greeted with a pack of little fleshlings—humans.

They were wearing odd mesh—an ugly green color—and pointed tiny black sticks at him. The sticks let out claps of thunder with a flash, sending the sharp projectiles into the baffled Wheeljack. Finally, the Wrecker realized they were _shooting_ at him.

 _“Well, that’s not very friendly_ ,” he muttered.

Didn’t Bulkhead say the humans were their allies? Or were they so dense that they couldn’t tell a Decepticon from an Autobot? A savage snarl interrupted him from his thoughts.

 _“Little pests,”_ Megatron growled, fangs bared. He lifted his mighty cannon, the barrel illuminated with a sinister violet as it let out a deadly hum.

Wheeljack thought he heard one of them squeal as the warlord trained it on the rude fleshlings, but it was too late. Megatron fired.

The bolts of energon buried into the ground at the humans’ tiny pedes. They let out little screams as they were consumed in columns of dirt and fire, sending them flying in all directions. Those that weren’t caught in the blast wailed in fright, scurrying out of sight, hiding behind a cluster of odd, little buildings. They were all made of either stone or metal, built in perfect geometrical shapes. Human architecture was _weird._

Suddenly a loud hum filled the air and the dark night was filled with bright colors. Wheeljack blinked and Dreadwing started, while Megatron only cocked an optic ridge. The Decepticon merely turned towards the opened groundbridge, looking bored more than anything.

Wheeljack realized what it was and grinned. _“Had a feeling the gang might show.”_

Sure enough, the groundbridge flashed as multiple figures stepped into the moonlight. The Wrecker’s spark pulsed with excitement at the sight of Bulkhead, along with Bumblebee, Ironhide, Mirage, and… Wheeljack’s lips twitched at the sight of the Prime. Great, what was _he_ doing here?

As the Autobots stepped onto solid ground, there was a chorus of tiny shouts. Wheeljack glanced to see the humans had rallied again, this time yelling at the newcomers. They raised their weapons, and the Wrecker bristled. Fleshies just didn’t learn--

“Hold your fire!”

Wheeljack blinked as the groundbridge flashed again, and a _human_ stepped out, dressed in the same strange mesh as the Wrecker’s assaulters. It (Or he? It looked like a mech…) stormed toward the rude fleshlings with no fear, even as several shifted their focus towards him. He reached out towards the closest one, snatching the barrel of the gun and forcing it down.

“These our allies!” he shouted.

He turned, only for his organic optics to widen when he noticed the titanic frame of Megatron. The Autobots only growled at the sight of the warlord.. Cannons hummed to life, primed and ready, aiming at the diabolical dictator. Cool blue optics found seething seething red ones.

 _“Megatron!”_ Optimus Prime barked.

Dreadwing had turned his attention from Wheeljack to the newcomers. He even stepped in front of his lord, acting like an oversized shield. However, Megatron didn’t even twitch during the entire event, only narrowing his optics as he scanned over the unexpected guests.

 _“Hmm, where is Arcee?”_ he asked, sounding almost curious. _“I was looking forward telling her how Jack is doing.”_

Jack? Who was that? It didn’t sound like the warlord was speaking of Wheeljack, as he hardly knew Arcee. Megatron certainly would not care to call him a nickname, especially one sounding so harsh and guttural. The Wrecker watched with confusion as plating rose and Ironhide let out a savage growl.

“What did you do you him, you miserable heap of scrap?!” the black mech roared, speaking English for whatever strange reason.

Megatron’s fanged grin only widened, raising his chin high. He spoke in clear English, voice booming across the air so everyone present could hear. “Only what you Autobots _failed_ to do. I find it curious, Optimus, you preach so much to protect such _weak_ creatures, yet you are just as quick to abandon them.”

The Autobot leader’s optics narrowed. “I will never forsake our human allies.”

“No, you grovel to them, even as they tear our kind apart.”

Bulkhead let out a savage growl Wheeljack had only heard a handful of times. His servos transformed into deadly maces. “Oh, yeah? How about I tear _you_ apart?!”

He charged forward to wreck Megatron, only to be stopped by Optimus’s extended servo. The Wrecker only slumped with disappointment while the Prime continued to glare at his rival.

“Whatever deceptions you are feeding Jackson, you will be stopped.”

Wheeljack rolled his optics at the bickering leaders. Optimus was no better than Zeta. He talked a good game, but that was far as it went. When he got in the scrap, he didn’t want to get his servos dirty.

 _Talking_ didn’t solve anything. Fighting did. And both Decepticons—including Lord Buckethead himself—were right in front of Wheeljack, their backs turned to him.

 _“Scrap this,”_ the Wrecker muttered.

His twin swords reappeared in his servos, and he pounced.

Wheeljack closed the distance between him and the diabolical dictator in a flicker of an optic. He raised his blades to the Megatron’s neck, to slice his ugly helm from his shoulders—

The Autobot gasped as suddenly something slammed into his torso, _hard_. His vents sputtered, forced shut as his plating caved inward. Blazing crimson optics and gleaming fangs flashed across his vision, as Megatron’s fist drove into his chest.

Wheeljack thought he heard a shout, but he didn’t know from who. Weightlessness seized his body as he sailed through the air, only to crash into the earth in a tangle of limbs. The Wrecker grunted as he skidded across the ground, leaving behind an ugly groove in the dirt, finally coming into a halt when he rammed into the side of a building.

The Autobot groaned as agony coursed through his struts. His engine sputtered and his vents wheezed--he realized something was broken. He flickered his broken vision, only to see a tall, menacing shape nearing him. The ground shuddered beneath him.

Wheeljack’s vocalizer was filled with static as he spat in Cybertronian, _“Ugh, cheap shot.”_

His vision focused, expecting to see Megatron standing over him, only to see the dark shape of Dreadwing. The Seeker looked deadly, optics arrowed into a murderous glare. Wheeljack heard a commotion, and he glanced over to see the Autobots had charged forwards to come to his air, only to run right into Megatron. The Champion weaved around them in a deadly dance, sword glimting dangerously in the moonlight. Those odd claps of thunder filled the air again, little bullets bouncing off Megatron’s armor, some even ricocheting off onto the attacking Autobots.

There was a flash above Wheeljack, and his attention turned back to Dreadwing. That monster sword was in his claws, held above Wheeljack’s neck. A wide, sinister smile spread across the Decepticon’s lips.

 _“Now… to avenge my brother’s demise.”_  

* * *

Jack fidgeted restlessly in Megatron’s massive berth. He paced back and forth, clenching his fists by his sides. He cycled through the breathing exercises his mother had taught him, trying to stay calm, but his heart hammered against his chest. Almost every light was on, filling the room with an alien glow. At least he wasn’t left alone in the darkness, but it hardly comforted him.

Something was going on. That much was obvious, when Jack saw Megatron blink in surprise when Airachnid mentioned that odd name: Dreadwing. The human had immediately peppered the tyrant with questions. Megatron answered in short answers until he finally gave in, telling that the Seeker was a commander under Starscream, and thought to be lost along with his brother Skyquake.

Still, Jack still didn’t understand why the dictator dropped everything (or rather, the teenager clinging to his armor). He had promised it would not take long, and if it did, Soundwave would arrive to feed him another dosage of dark energon. As Megatron was the Decepticon leader, he was expected to greet any new arrivals, but Jack knew better. The warlord wasn’t one to waste his time with such pleasantries.

Jack thought about it. _If the Decepticons detected that signal, then the Autobots can, too._

It explained why Megatron was in such a hurry, but not why he chose to go himself. He had an army—he could have sent scouts to secure Dreadwing. Unless he was looking for a fight.

The thought made Jack’s stomach twist, and he didn’t know why. Megatron said that the Autobots hadn’t even bothered to look for him. The thought infuriated Jack, but… what of Arcee? He didn’t want her to die, not because of him. He did not know what he wanted to hear when the tyrant finally returned.

Jack paced even longer, warring with himself, until his legs began to ache. Even though the dark energon had long healed his wounds, his muscles were still weak from his trauma and lack of use. He sighed. Maybe he could try to sleep, and Megatron would return by the time he woke up. It would be a good escape until then.

The teenager flopped down on the warm material of the berth, burying into his nest of blankets Megatron had gathered for him. He closed his eyes, ignoring his racing thoughts and hammering heart. He tried to silence the storm within him. Arcee was strong, she would be okay. Megatron would come back, and they could go flying again.

It was then a hiss whispered through the room.

Jack stirred.

That sounded like the hydraulic door opening. Sure enough, the teenager heard the soft click of the lock sliding back into place.

“Megatron?”

There was no reply, not much as a grunt or growl. Jack didn’t even hear the warlord’s heavy, rhythmic steps. The berth was utterly still.

He was hearing things. Whenever he tried to drift off into the embrace of sleep, he was tormented by ghostly sounds of the _Nemesis_. From the clanking of patrols outside the door, to the hiss of the ventilation systems, to the whirr of energon through the lines, and the distant hum of the great engines. That’s what Jack told himself, as he laid his head back into the berth and closed his eyes.

Only for the clicking sound to continue. It wasn’t a noise Jack heard before. It sounded like metal hitting metal in precise, quiet strikes. Was it Soundwave? The Decepticon was silent—the boy had hardly heard the communication officer make a sound, in the few times he had encountered Soundwave. Wait.

Soundwave was _silent_.

Jack’s eyes opened at the realization and he shot up into a sitting position. He stared at darkness of the room, eyes trying to adjust to the gloom. He recognized the barren, empty space, void of furniture or a single silhouette. Only inky blackness greeted him—

Jack froze.

When had the lights turned off?

“S-Soundwave?” he called out, staring into the abyss to see any sign of the Decepticon.

Only for purple, compound optics to stare back at him.

“Hello, my dear Jack.”

Jack screamed. Airachnid smiled.

The teenager tried to scramble away, as far from the Decepticon as possible, but his limbs were tangled in the blankets. He desperately tried to tear them away from his body, but his panic only twisted them even more. Suddenly a claw pierced the cocoon of cloth, pinning his leg to the berth. Jack yelped in pain and fright.

“Hush now, my dear, I will not hurt you,” Airachnid purred, her sultry voice filled with false promise.

“Get away from me!” Jack screeched. He tried to yank himself free, but the Insecticon’s grip did not relent. Airachnid only chuckled at his feeble struggles.

“Such a fighting spirit. And here I was afraid Megatron had beaten it out of you.”

 “Megatron didn’t do _anything_ to me!”

“Oh? Then tell me Jack, wherever did you get those scars?

Jack flinched, violently, and he couldn’t keep the tremor from his voice. “H-How did you know?”

Airachnid noticed, her smile widening. She took a single claw, and the teen leaned away, but there was nowhere to go. He hissed, muscles locking in place, as the sharp tip of the femme’s finger dragged along the pale line across his cheek—not enough to draw blood, but the slightest twitch would kill him.

“Did you think I would not notice? Especially after Megatron halted all operations went into a fit, before the bridge of the ship no less. When he left so suddenly, I surely thought it had something do with Optimus, so imagine my surprise when he returned with _you_ instead.”

Suddenly Airachnid crept closer, until her faceplates hovered over Jack’s. The boy cringed and flinched away, sinking his back into the berth. “So tell me, little one, how did you come to Megatron’s berth?”

Jack dared to glare up at those awful optics, seething through gritted teeth. His fingers dug into the material beneath him. He tried to force away the onslaught of memories, of when he was under this wretched predator’s claws. When she tried to kill him, his mother, Arcee.

Airachnid blinked. “Oh, you’re shivering, little one!”

Was he? Jack tried to command his body to stop, only to flinch when suddenly servos began  rubbing at his sides. He squirmed, but Airachnid’s hold was firm.

“Do not fear, I will not hurt you, my sweet.”

It was a lie. Jack knew it was a lie. The femme’s tone was too sweet, too sickly. Airachnid was a sadist. She enjoyed the cries of other’s pain, no more than a spider relished prey caught in its web.

“M-Megatron’s coming b-back, you know.”

“Hmm?”

“W-When he finds out about this, he’ll k-kill you.”

Jack fail to keep the stutter from his voice. This threat was softer than he meant it to be. Airachnid seemed to be drinking his fear like it was the finest of wines, her optics glowing brilliantly.

“Ah, yes, Megatron is always so possessive of his things. But do not fret.”

Suddenly those frigid servos slid over Jack’s chest and wrapped around his face, forcing him to look into those wicked optics. He shivered at the fangs lingering dangerously close to the delicate skin of his neck. Then Airachnid spoke in a sinister, satisfied purr.

“Soon, there will be a future _without_ Megatron.”  



End file.
